Hoodwinked
by Mr G and Me
Summary: Opposites attract even if he's a complete shithead whose sole purpose for existing is to torture you. When Bella gets dumped two weeks before her graduating dance, Edward agrees to be her "pity date", but not all is what it seems. Australian setting because I'm still pretty researched-out. And I'm lazy. AU and AH, and all that...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: New fic with zero angst, I promise. It's all from Bella's POV. I'm going to upload two to start, and then post once a week. It's set once more in Australia. I'm getting lazy, but it's so much easier to write what you know.  
Kimmie45 is my beta again, but I'm going to post the first two unbeta'd just for today. Once she can get around to them, I'll swap them over. They shouldn't be too terrible ;) StarryEyedWriter8 is also my prereader, as well as Amanda Dawson, my fanfic bestie. Thanks, girls *kiss*  
****I hope you'll give it a chance.  
****ETA: This chapter is now edited and updated :)**

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**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 1.**

Mike stands before me, hands gripping the shoulder straps of his backpack while his clear blue eyes glance everywhere but at me.

"What's going on?" I put the obvious question to him after several moments of watching him stall. He messaged me during six period to meet him behind the gym after school, and initially I wasn't too concerned about it. We often meet like this, but the longer he avoids my gaze the more the uneasiness begins to accumulate in my stomach.

"Look, Bella," his eyes zero in on mine looking suddenly resolute, "I feel like I'm wasting my time here."

"Wasting your time?" I repeat, adding confusion to my fray of emotions. "What does that mean?"

"What does it mean?" he echoes me rhetorically as if it went without saying. "You promised me it'd be Saturday—you _promised_," he reminds me _again_, and I immediately understand his meaning.

We've been dating for nine months, and seven of those months have been spent having this same argument. The same argument about the same topic of what I'm beginning to suspect is an inevitability; losing my virginity, or more accurately, losing my virginity to him.

"I know..." I concede, speaking to the concrete beneath my feet.

"So what happened?" His tone is beginning to sound accusing and it's really bothering me.

"I already told you." I look back up at him and catch his gaze, and in response my voice hardens. I'm getting sick and tired of the pressure he's constantly putting on me. "You said you'd wait."

"I _have_ been waiting," he stresses, his frustration obvious.

"What can I say?—I'm not ready!" I repeat the same answer I've been offering him these last months.

"When _will_ you be ready?" he demands, his voice rising sharply.

"Keep your bloody voice down—Jesus!" I snap, fighting to keep my own hushed as my irritation grows.

"Answer me."

"I don't know!" I blurt. He's making me just as frustrated, but my frustration is stemming from his repeated attempts to guilt me.

"You said you cared about me?" And there it is; the same tired emotional manipulation that he refuses to give up.

"I do!" I assert, shaking my head. I refuse to go around in circles with him again and get into another fight. "Mike...I'm just not ready," I appeal to him to understand, reaching out to him but he jerks his shoulder back to avoid my touch.

"You know what?—I'm done. You're just a fucking cock-teasing, _frigid_ bitch!" he blurts, his eyes just as hard as his voice, before turning his back on me and walking away.

I watch him go, with my heart lodged in my throat, while it's on the tip of my tongue to call out, _what about the Farewell?_

The Farewell...that's only two weeks away.

The HSC notwithstanding, the Farewell is the biggest event of Year 12; the last and momentous dance of our school lives. This year, it's being held at the Shangri-La hotel in Sydney. Like every girl in our grade, Alice and I have been planning for it all year—our hair, our dresses, our dates...

Everyone takes a date, _everyone_, and since Mike and I have been going out since first term I expected he'd be mine.

Alice is having the after-party at her house. Her father is going to be out of state for the week, and it's expected to be huge where most of the year is invited. That's when I planned on surprising Mike; when I planned on giving him my virginity.

Becoming choked with emotion, I immediately do an about-face and head quickly toward the carpark.

Yanking my keys from my bag, I unlock my car and sit myself behind the wheel. My heart's hammering in painful realisation, but I'm desperately fighting to keep myself together.

After inserting the key in the ignition, I turn on the engine but leave my car in park, I grab my phone from the side pocket of my bag.

**_Where are you, Alice_****?** I hastily text her.

**_Jas and I are stopping for a thick shake. What's up?_** she replies almost immediately.

**_Nothing_**_._ I lie. **_What time will you be home?_**

**_4ish,_**_ s_he answers, followed by a selfie of her and Jas along with several smiley face emoji's. **_Isn't he a honey?_**

Jasper and Alice have been a couple for almost a year. Since Jasper asked her to his Year 12 Farewell last year, they still haven't graduated from that newly-together cheesiness.

**_Totally_**, is my reply with an added eye roll emoji, but Alice knows I'm only teasing her. **_I'll see you soon_**_._

**_Alrighty_**_._

Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, and stubbornly inhaling back the threat of more, I toss my phone to the passenger side seat and pull out of the school parking lot.

_I'm okay_, I tell myself repeatedly, and I'm definitely not heartbroken. I've been having doubts about Mike for the last few months. It's never anything material, just a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that has Alice convinced it's all just cold feet. And for the longest time, I believed her.

Mike's moderately popular, cute, and funny—the nice guy, we all thought. I had a crush on him since Year 8 when he transferred to our school, but I was never brave enough to talk to him. He, on the other hand, is friendly and can talk to anyone—even me. I've always been shy, and I rely on Alice far too much to be my voice. That's how Mike and I got together. Alice got Jas to put the feelers out and Mike took the bait.

It was all so very _high school_. God, I can't wait for it to be over.

My crush quickly turned into a solid attachment. Mike was a complete clown, but we always had fun, and he made me laugh. He sent me goofy, romantic messages at all times of the day and night, something he would almost always repeat against my skin when we were alone. That's when things started to go wrong. He was too eager to take things to the next level and I wasn't.

His benign kisses all too quickly turned assertive, until his hands started venturing beneath my clothes. I've had to forcefully stop him more times than I'm comfortable with, but in the beginning he was understanding. He promised me he'd wait until I was ready, but his patience quickly grew thin. He started making me lock in dates and then got angry when I inevitably backed out of them.

Our fun and easy relationship became hard, and I hated that he always made me feel guilty and responsible for every fight we had. I started to avoid him, but for whatever reason I was unable to break my attachment to him and end it between us. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was more in love with the idea of having a boyfriend than I was with Mike? Or maybe I just didn't want to turn up dateless at the Farewell.

Whatever the reason is, by the time I arrive home I feel deflated at best. I don't cry, because _frigid bitch_? I refuse to shed a single bloody tear over him for that. Still, I have to fight the urge to, even if I can't understand it.

I'm forced to hold myself up in my bathroom. My mother, Renee, has an uncanny ability to sense the smallest shift in my expression into the negative, and the last thing I want is another conversation that skirts around my reproductive system.

God love her, but Jesus...

I've been the only child for fifteen years—when my little brother came along—and she's always had the tendency to over-celebrate every single milestone in my life, no matter how insignificant. When she found out I started going out with Mike, she made me a "boyfriend starter kit" complete with condoms and ovulation detection tests. She then had the _Birds and_ _Bees Mark II_ talk with me. The one every kid dreads; the one with graphic details and adjectives. I'm not sure what was worse. The fact that my mother insisted on actually demonstrating positions, or that she appeared unaware that, at seventeen, I already knew where babies came from. That's when I called Charlie, my father, for backup. My father loves my mother's enthusiasm, we both do, but he doesn't need any explanations when it comes to being rescued from her. And god knows I've had to return the favour more times in my life than I care to remember.

I thought once Jake was born, she'd relax a fraction and divide her zeal between the two of us, but no. If I fill her in, she'll more than likely insist on baking me cookies and then make me watch _The Way We Were_ with her.

Besides, I'm more the 'suffer in silence' type.

I hold out for an hour when the floodgates completely open.

Just after four, Alice texts me a Facebook photo of Mike and Jessica Stanley kissing, dated only five minutes ago, along with **_WTF is this arsehole doing?_** **THAT BASTARD!**

That's when the tears flow, only they're stemmed from humiliation and self-pity more than anything else. If it were with anyone else I don't think I'd react so strongly, but Jessica Stanley is _that_ girl. The girl who's hated me from the beginning of time, and who's made it her personal mission to undermine every infinitesimal moment in my life.

The girl who'll use the last two weeks of school, as well as the Farewell, to rub this particular event in every chance she gets.

"Mum, I'm going to Alice's," I call out, escaping through the front door before she can react to the obvious waver in my voice.

"Dinner's at six—and are you okay, sweetie? Do you have your period?" she calls out after me as I hasten my step.

Alice lives next door. We've been neighbours since birth. My parents moved into our acreage estate in Sydney's far south as newlyweds; almost the same time as the Cullens, Alice's parents. I was born the following spring, two weeks after Alice, and we've been close, literally and figuratively, ever since.

I pause on the porch, attempting one last time to pull myself together, before I knock. The door swings open a few seconds later.

"It's you, snotface—god, what happened now? Break a fingernail?" is how Edward, Alice's older brother, greets me. He doesn't have a single ounce of concern for me, because he is—and has always been—in every sense of the word, a shithead. But he's my best friend's older brother, shithead is the general consensus. And at two years older, and almost a foot taller than me and Alice both, he's spent the majority of his life tormenting the two of us.

When we were kids, he used to put worms or snails down my shirt. Now he'll flick my forehead, pull my hair, or attempt to trip me when I'm walking, as if he's matured in the bloody negative, which I suspect he has.

"Is Alice home yet?" I ask, not really bothered by him, but I ignore his question; he doesn't care either way. Instead, I bow my head and hastily brush my tears away to avoid more of his ridicule.

"Nope," he replies, swinging the door open wider for me to enter regardless. "Come in anyway, since you practically live here."

I step into the foyer and follow him into the kitchen where he left his bowl of Coco Pops.

"What are you bawling about, anyway?" he asks, sitting back down at the breakfast table to resume eating his cereal. He's obviously just got home from work. He's sweaty, dirty and covered in sawdust.

"Nothing," I mutter, pulling out my phone to text Alice. **_How far are you?_**

"_Nothing_," he echoes me, scoffing through his nose. "Don't tell me, then."

**_20 minutes, babe_**, Alice answers. **_You okay?_**

"If you must know, my boyfriend broke up with me today," I inform him with an impatient huff. I'm not sure why, because he's definitely not about to console me.

As expected, he turns to me, his green eyes flooding with amusement. "That blond bloke? _Bummer_." He snorts.

**_Yeah, your brother is distracting me_**, I reply to Alice, and then Edward, "Thanks for your understanding," I say sarcastically.

"Mike Newton, wasn't it?" And when I nod he continues, "He's a _dickhead_."

"Yeah, well..." I shrug, because he has a definite point there. "It's just..." I let it go.

"_It's just_ what?" he probes before shoving a mountain full of cereal into his mouth.

"I dunno..." I mumble.

He rolls his eyes and smirks to himself, but doesn't answer. I watch him continue to shovel Coco Pops into his mouth while he messes around with his phone. He's on Facebook, and a moment later my phone beeps with a notification: _Edward Cullen has posted on your wall._

I click it open.

**Hey, sorry, snotface. It wasn't because of me, was it? **Was what he'd written along with several hysterically laughing emoji's.

"What the hell does this mean?" I demand just as he forces his laughter beneath his breath.

"Just making it more interesting." He winks.

"Do you _have_ to call me _snotface_? That was _ten_ years ago."

Snotface is the name Edward has been calling me since I was eight and had the worst flu of my life that winter. I made the mistake of sneezing in front of him, which had subsequently gone all over my face. He's never let me forget it.

"What else would I call you?" he puts to me continuing to smirk to himself, lifting his bowl and drinking the remainder of the Coco Pop flavoured milk from it.

I have no idea how Edward can possibly be as tall and full of muscles as he is when he exists entirely on sugar, but then I suppose he can thank his job for that. He's in his second year carpentry apprenticeship, and he's constantly lugging large planks of timber around. Last June, after his car was at the mechanics, Alice and I picked him up after work. I caught sight of him bare chested in the rain carrying several long beams over his shoulder, his biceps taut and bulging. It was the first time I've ever looked at him and didn't see my best friend's shithead of a brother.

Yeah, he's a hottie, all right, but he'll be the first one to agree.

My phone beeps again. Alice has replied to his message on my Facebook.

**What does this mean? What's going on?**

"Oh, god..." I groan as Edward laughs whole-heartedly and starts typing a reply. "What are you doing? _Stop it_!" I exclaim, my heart picking up in panic.

His post pops up.

**Snotface is not nearly as shy as she'll have you believe**, he wrote, followed by a winking emoji.

**Have you hooked up? When did this happen? How could you not tell me, Bella? **Alice immediately replies while Edward's laughter increases.

"This isn't funny!" I protest, my face beginning to burn. "I'm deleting it."

He immediately jumps up from his chair and grabs my phone. "Leave it up. Let the wanker believe you got it on with a _real_ guy." And sucking in his breath, he puffs out his chest jokingly.

"As if..." I scoff out how ridiculous it is before attempting to grab my phone off him. He raises it over his head, his grin growing broader.

"Nope," he says, and holding it elevated out of my reach, he starts typing on it.

"_No!"_ I shout, yanking on his shirt attempting to pull him down, but he plants his free hand to my forehead and holds me at arm's length.

When he's done, he holds it out for me to read, and my heart fails.

**Yeah, got sick and tired of running with little boys, and Edward's man enough to keep me satisfied**, he'd written, adding a gif of Emma Stone winking suggestively.

"_OH MY GOD_!" I explode, then curving my leg around the back of his knee, I attempt to trip him.

I fail miserably, of course, and Edward takes it as open season to rough me up. Hooking his elbow around my neck, he bends me forward, and in my struggle to free myself, I accidentally grab him..._there_.

He immediately jolts, a shocked kind of sound bursting from him when he half releases me. "Did you do that on purpose?" He appears surprised and impressed simultaneously.

"Of course, I didn't!" I snap, hoping irritation will mask my mortification.

He snickers before he has me in a head lock again, only this time he pulls me flush to him. My face is squashed against his hard abdominal muscles and I'm suddenly engulfed by the smell of sweat and..._something else_.

"Edward—Christ, you need to shower!" I protest, my voice muffled against his shirt even as I attempt to push off him.

"_What the hell is going on_?!" Alice's voice suddenly breaks between us, steeped in shock and slight amusement.

Edward immediately releases me again, shoving me away from him by my head. I shove him back in response, before red-faced and flustered I attempt to straighten out my hair.

"God, here it is," he says dryly, and walking past Alice, he flicks her square in the forehead on the way to his bedroom. "Hey, midget."

Turning around, Alice shoves him in the back. He stumbles for a step, laughing to himself then disappears around a corner.

Alice's gaze once more zeroes in on me. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?" she repeats her assertion as a smirk pulls slowly on her lips this time.

"Nothing!" I insist jerking a shoulder. "I told him what happened and he decided to..._help_." I roll my eyes.

"What _did_ happen?" Alice's voice softens as she breaches the obvious subject of Mike.

"He dumped me," I mumble, breaking her gaze to stare at the floor.

"And then immediately hooks up with that slag Jessica Stanley?" Her voice turns screechy in her anger.

I shrug. "I dunno. I guess..."

"Geez, what a prick!"

"Yeah, well..." I shrug again releasing a heavy breath. With Edward, and his constant source of torture over me, I was somewhat distracted by it, but Alice always brings me straight back down to earth.

Moving beside me, she wraps her arm over my shoulder and turns me in the direction of her bedroom. "You upset?" she asks gently.

"I don't know. A part of me is relieved." I admit, even if it's a half truth. I am upset over Mike, and I'm furious over Jessica, but right now I'm not sure I can process how I really feel.

"Well, that's a good sign," Alice says closing the door behind us. "Wanna pig out?" she offers with a sympathetic smile, because while I'm attempting to maintain an exterior of indifference, she knows better.

"Yeah." I reply, my voice straining behind the inevitability of my crashing emotions, and before I know it, I'm sobbing.

A packet of caramel Tim Tams later and I feel somewhat better. I'm resigned more than anything. "Well, I guess I'm going to the Farewell stag," I say with a jaded sigh.

"He'll be taking a massive step down if he goes with Stanley," is Alice's attempt to cheer me up, before grabbing her phone and clicking it open.

"Don't show me anything else. I don't care," I tell her, but I do care a little bit at least, and I definitely do not want to see anymore photos of the two of them together.

"What...Bella..." Alice says, sounding suddenly confused as her eyes pull from her phone's screen to lock with mine.

"What?"

"Does Edward have your phone?"

It takes me a moment for realisation to set in when I lunge to my feet. "Oh my GOD! That _SHITHEAD_!"

He's lying on his bed, shirtless now, one hand behind his head, and the other around my phone that he deliberately toys with in front of me.

"Geez, you're quick, snotface," he says, his smirk broad and full of amusement.

"I bloody..._hate you_!" I burst, words almost failing me in my exasperation as I move to snatch it from his hand.

He pulls it back at the last minute before rolling his eyes and tossing it to me. "Okay, keep your shirt on. I'm doing you a favour."

"_Favour_!" I echo him incredulously as I scan through what he's written. "Oh my god—are you _kidding_ me?!" He's had several conversations all while pretending to be me, explaining how we've had a secret affair going on for months. "This is _not_ funny, Edward. How could you do this!?" Slumping beside him on the edge of his bed, I drop my head into my outstretched hand.

"How is telling everyone Bella has been whoring with you behind Mike's back helping her, you moron!" Alice demands, slapping him in the head. "Is everything a bloody joke to you?!"

"What?" Edward protests, as if he thinks we're overreacting. "Remember how popular I was in high school? All the girls are going to be jealous of you now, snotface." Planting his palm to my shoulder, he nudges me.

"Stop calling me _snotface_!" I snap, elbowing him in the ribs.

"_Popular_?" Alice puts to him sarcastically. "Please, you were a bad boy wannabe who was always suspended for getting into fights—when you were even _at school_, that is."

In his last year, Edward had spent more days absent than he did in attendance. He wanted to get an apprenticeship, but his father made him finish high school first. It had caused a rift between them, and they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on much in the first place; not since he and Alice's mother died when he was twelve.

"Thanks, arsehole," I mutter, glaring at him and pulling myself to feet.

In response, he makes the exaggerated motion of wiping tears from his eyes before scoffing to himself. "This is what's wrong with you girls. Everything's a bloody melodrama."

"How's Bella supposed to get a date to the Farewell now if everyone thinks she's been screwing you!?" Alice decides to fill him in, slapping him again across the head while I subtly cringed.

As expected, Edward laughs. "Is that what you're bitching about? I'll take you."

I immediately scoff, letting him know of my aversion to the idea. "Um...I can't think of anything more pathetic short of going with my own brother."

His brows shoot up. "What's that supposed to mean? Bad boy, remember?" he points to himself. "All the girls used to love me."

"You idiot," Alice retorts. "You're my brother, she's my best friend—everyone's going to know it's a pity date."

"Not necessarily, but suit yourself." He shrugs a shoulder.

Alice rolls her eyes, then grabbing my hand, she pulls me out of the room. "Put a bloody shirt on, maverick," she tells him over her shoulder. "And fix this—_now_!"

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**A/N: Yeah? No?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Did you like chapter one? If you've stuck around, I hope you enjoy this one, too.  
MWAH xoxo  
ETA: This chapter is now edited and updated. Thanks, Kim *kiss***

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**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 2.**

**Bella.**

It's Alice's idea in the end to go along with Edward's post on my Facebook.

"No!" I insist, immediately opposed to it. "No." My thoughts drift to Edward, and I all but full-body shudder. I mean sure, he was popular when he was in school, but he's Alice's brother. I barely even see him as a member of the opposite sex. I barely see him as anything more than a Neanderthal. "_God_, no!"

"Why not? It makes perfect sense, and he's already set the chains in motion," she points out.

"It makes _no_ sense," I counter unconvinced. Edward and I make no sense, and no one will believe it.

"It makes perfect sense given that he is the only male on the planet that you can actually hold a conversation with without turning into a stuttering, red-faced mess."

"I can talk to Mike," is my feeble defence, because we both know she's right.

"After how many months?" she arches a brow, looking entirely too much like Edward.

I shake my head dismissively. "I can't pretend that with Edward, and he'll never let me live it down."

"Okay..." she pauses to take a breath as if she were working out the cogs in her plan, "aside from him being, well..._Edward_, he's right about one thing. He _was_ popular in high school and the girls did love him."

"_And_?"

"If Newton's going to use slaggy Jessica against you, let's face it, Edward will be the _perfect_ revenge. You'll be able to hold your head high and _totally_ rub him in his face. And you'll have a date for the Farewell. "

I shake my head again. I'm not even remotely convinced until Alice adds the coup de grace. "And do you remember how badly Jessica used to have it for Edward? All those love letters she put in his locker?" She snickers.

I mull it over for a few seconds before I groan out loud and attempt to hide the fact that I'm cringing. Pretending to be with Edward? "No one will believe it," I reiterate.

"Not necessarily," she uses the same phrase Edward had earlier as a secretive smile tugs on her lips.

"In order for it to be convincing we'll have to pretend to..." I let my thoughts race ahead of me just as my face immediately bursts into flames. "_Ugh_, no!" I stand firm.

"Oh come on, Bella," Alice urges me. "Imagine the fun we'll have."

"The fun _you'll_ have," I correct her. "And Edward's not likely to go along with it anyway."

"Well, there's one way to find out." Grabbing my hand again, she pulls me out of her bedroom and back into Edward's.

His room's empty, so undeterred Alice shoves open his bathroom door. He's standing before his vanity, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, shaving.

"What the hell do you losers want now?" he demands, continuing to run the razor down his face completely unfazed by the fact that we've caught him half naked.

"We have a plan—"

"_Alice_ has a plan," I correct her.

"Okay, _I_ have a plan." She sighs deliberately.

"Riveting," is his response, his eyes not deviating from his reflection in the mirror.

"You wanna hear it?" Alice puts to him.

"Not really," he replies, rinsing the razor under the running water then tapping it against the porcelain of the sink.

"Bella agreed to go to the Farewell with you," she fills him in regardless.

"Oh, yeah?" His eyes meet mine through the reflection of the mirror, his brow cocked. "You're only human, snotface."

I scoff and roll my eyes, but don't bother with a reply. He'll only twist it.

"So, do you want to hear our plan?" Alice attempts again.

He smirks to himself. "Okay, let's hear it."

"We..._expand _on what you already started..." Alice raises her brows and waits for the light bulb to switch on in his brain.

It doesn't.

"Expand on it? You mean me and snotface..." His eyes immediately move in my direction suspiciously as that light bulb evidently switches on. "_Hell _no!"

Alice huffs in frustration. "What the hell is with you two? Bella's hot, you're...well, you're not _hideous_."

Edward immediately cuts in. "Correction, _I'm_ hot, Bella's...snotface. Ugh, no chance."

"You offered to take her to the Farewell, you idiot—or have you forgotten, already?" she demands, as I huff to myself indignantly. I realise he's more than likely messing with me, but I haven't mastered the art of not letting him get under my skin.

He practically laughs to himself. "It's one thing to be her pity date, but another to act it out. I have a reputation around here, you know."

"Get over yourself, Edward! As if I'd let you touch me!" I snap, my patience severing just as Alice shoves him in the back of the head, needing to practically jump up to reach him.

"It's not enough that you embarrassed her, but you don't have to be an insensitive prick! You do realise her boyfriend broke up with her today, don't you?"

"Yeah, she was bawling the moment I let her inside," he says, wiping a glob of aftershave from his face and smearing it across mine.

"Real funny," I reply grabbing a flannel from the sink to wipe it away, just as Alice grabs the towel around him and yanks it off.

"Jesus!" he hollers, standing completely naked for a moment before he shoves the two of us from his bathroom and slams the door.

"Alice, that was way more than I needed to see!" I utter, feeling slightly dazed and disorientated as she ushers me back to her room.

"He deserved it," she says, snorting back her smirk. "Besides, how many times did the two of you go skinny dipping together when you were little?" She's reacting as if seeing the sight of her six-foot-two, twenty-year-old brother stark naked is completely inconsequential.

"We're not four years old anymore," I remind her in a mumble, rubbing my brow in an effort to conceal my blush.

I completely forgot that Edward's circumcised, and why that suddenly occurs to me right now is anyone's guess.

"Anyway, I'm sorry, Bella. He's such a...a _dickhead_ sometimes." She rolls her eyes and flops down on her bed.

I drop down beside her, grabbing one of her pillows and burying my face against it. "Yeah, I know." I eventually reply from behind it. He is, but he always has been.

"I'll ask Jas if he knows someone." she suddenly muses.

Pulling back, I release my breath into a weary sigh. "Don't worry about it, Als. I don't mind going stag."

"You are _not _going stag." She's adamant, her eyes glazing over as she obviously starts scheming ahead of her.

"I mean it. I'd rather go alone than feel obligated to some guy I just met." I sit myself up and click open my phone, re-reading Edward's train wreck on my page. "Christ, he told everyone we got together in July!"

Breaking into an immediate grin, Alice grabs her phone. "But look how many people have liked it? Half our year. Newton would have definitely seen it."

"Yeah, _straight after_ his post with Jessica. How convenient," I say dryly, and half groaning, I drop my head and rub my forehead heavily with my fingertips. "Your brother's such a shithead."

"Tell me about it," Alice says as her fingers swiftly type over the screen. "Jas," she fills me in after I attempt to glance over her shoulder.

"Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with anyone," I complain. "Alice..."

She only shushes me.

"I'm going alone!" I assert, as a notification window suddenly pops up on my phone: _Edward Cullen replied to his post on your wall. _

I click it open, silently fuming to myself. He replied to Eric Yorkie's question about whether he's taking me to the Farewell.

**_Yeah, I suppose I can't get out of it._**

I glance up blankly, feeling my brow knot just as the door to Alice's room bursts open and Edward leans forward hanging from the frame. He's wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, while his hair is still wet and unruly. "Kay, I've changed my mind," he announces as his expression turns shrewd. "On one condition."

"What?" I ask suspiciously.

"You saw mine, so I get to see yours," he replies, his grin this time full on wicked.

"_No_!" I immediately retort.

"Just your tits," he clarifies, as if that somehow makes all the difference.

"_No_!" I repeat, emphasising it further before picking up one of Alice's Beanie Boo's and hurling it at him. He dodges it easily, his grin growing broader and oozing with self-assurance.

"Come on, you saw me in all my glory. Fair's fair."

"Alice did that, not me," I remind him.

"Okay, one tit!" he attempts to haggle.

"_Get out_!" I demand.

"You showed me once before, remember...?" He raises his brows, alluding to the time when I was five and he was seven and we had our own personal _show and tell._

"Forget it. It's not going to happen."

"Okay," he pauses and deliberately clears his throat. "My final offer. Tits with your bra on. Take it or leave it."

"Leave it," I counter without hesitation.

"Alice..." He turns his attention to his sister, who sighs loudly.

"Bella, just show him," she says sounding exasperated, and just when I thought she was going to take my side.

"_What_?" I burst in disbelief. "I'm not—"

"It's not as if he hasn't seen it all before." she breaks in.

"Exactly," Edward adds.

"He _hasn't_ seen them before!" I insist, feeling the urge to suddenly cover myself.

He snorts. "I beg to differ..."

"What does that mean?" I challenge him.

"How many times have I seen you in a bikini, _Miss Modest_?" he mocks me, raising a single brow to drive his point home.

Taking a breath, I release it into a completely drawn out, irritated groan before I concede. "_Fine_."

His expression smooths out in surprise. "All right, then."

With a huff, I angle my back to Alice, silently motioning for her to unzip my dress. When she does, I stand up and allow my uniform to slip from my shoulders catching it when it falls to my waist.

"_Snotface_..." he drawls, his eyes fixed to my covered breasts, and sounding wholly impressed. "You've really filled out."

Yanking my dress back up to cover myself, I grab the closest thing to me—one of Alice's softball trophies—and hurl it at him in a fit of frustration.

He catches it easily and props it up on Alice's chest of drawers, chuckling beneath his breath.

"Do you have to be such a jerk?" I accuse him, which only succeeds in increasing his amusement.

"No backing out of this, Edward," Alice warns him.

"Okay," he completely exaggerates a sigh. "What do you want me to do?"

"Make it convincing," is Alice's answer, her grin suddenly mirroring her brother's.

"Make _what_ convincing?" I ask, as my heart reacts to the very idea of it.

"That you can't get enough of me, snotface," he teases me, and when my narrowing eyes darts to his, he winks.

"_Ugh_..." I grumble, pulling my dress impatiently back over my shoulders.

"Nothing too extravagant," she reassures me. "I think I should..._validate_ what Edward said on your wall though. On my Facebook and Instagram."

"How...?" I mumble, pressing my fingers to my brow and feeling the heat accumulating beneath my skin.

"I'll take a pic of you two in a really compromising position—that you're obviously not aware of," she begins when I immediately interject, horrified.

"_How_ compromising?"

"Relax, it will only _look_ compromising. Anyway, I'll then post it and make some big fuss about how I didn't know you two were together."

"I'm in," Edward announces, his smirk becoming suggestive, and before I can open my mouth to reply, Alice is pushing me through her bedroom door.

"It has to be in Edward's room, obviously."

After shoving open his door, Edward throws himself on his double bed before sitting up against his headboard and folding his arms across his bare chest. "Well, come on then, snotface."

"_My _condition—no more snotface!" I say hotly, standing my ground.

He rolls his eyes. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"By her name, obviously," Alice pipes up dryly. "Okay, Bella, jump in with him."

"_In_?" I echo her, raising a dubious brow.

"In, on—you get my meaning. Hurry up!" She shoves me forward.

Reluctantly, I move to sit beside Edward, keeping as much distance from him as I can.

"Bella..._come on_." Alice huffs. "_Try_ and be convincing."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask begrudgingly.

"Pull your uniform down again and get under the blankets with him," she suggests.

"_No_!" I immediately object, affronted. "It'll look like we're..." I intentionally abandon it, and from behind me Edward scoffs his reaction only half beneath his breath.

"Like we're _what_, snotface?" he murmurs against my ear, before on impulse, I elbow him in the ribs.

He jolts and starts laughing.

"No more SNOTFACE!" I yell, moving to maim him again when he grabs my hands.

"Okay, no more snotface," he continues to laugh, not even pretending to take me seriously.

"That's it—I'm not doing this!" I conclude, reefing my hands from his, and moving to pull myself off the bed, when he curls an arm around my waist.

"Okay, _Bella,_ I promise I won't give you anymore shit."

"Um, we're losing light, people!" Alice breaks in, sounding exasperated.

"What do you expect us to do, again?" I ask.

"Get under the bloody blankets and snuggle as if you really are together! It's not hard!" Alice exclaims.

Edward complies immediately, pulling his sheet up to cover his jeans before turning to me and opening an arm. "You gonna keep your man waiting, or what?"

Groaning beneath my breath, I allow him to pull me against him when I'm instantly flooded by the scent of his aftershave, and whatever it is, it smells bloody nice. This is on top of how warm his skin is against mine.

"Pull your dress down again," Alice instructs me as I turn to her in warning.

"I am _not_ pulling my dress down," I reiterate my stance.

"You'll still have your bra on," she points out.

"It'll look like we're having sex—and who takes a photo of that!?" I burst.

"I would," Edward pipes up, and I shove against him.

"Of course, _you_ would, but Alice wouldn't. Unless she has some creepy fetish about her brother."

"She has a point, midget." He's immediately convinced.

"Besides, I'm _not_ looking like a slut just to get back at Mike Newton."

"Slut?" Alice repeats as if it's ridiculous. "You never did anything with him, so how could you be a slut?"

I open my mouth to reply, when Edward interjects.

"Wait, you _didn't_?" He sounds surprised.

I shove him again, my hands making contact with his naked flesh in a way that is everything _but_ threatening. "None of your business."

He smirks, his breath shooting from his nose. "Righto."

"Can you two pay attention?" Alice snaps, and when we both turn to her, she continues. "Above the blankets, but dress down. Good compromise?"

"I'm not putting my dress down!" I stubbornly assert.

"I've got my dress down," Edward adds, slapping his bare chest.

"God, you're an idiot," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Bella, _come on_," Alice coaxes me. "It needs to be believable."

"_All right_!" I blurt, shoving my uniform back down my shoulders a second time and all but throwing myself against Edward.

Alice laughs. "Think about Jessica Stanley's face when she sees this."

"_Jessica Stanley_—that psycho chick who used to send me creepy poems!?" Edward bursts as his lips tug again into a grin and he turns his gaze on me. "Is that who you're worried about?"

"Five minutes after breaking up with me, my _boyfriend_ decided to post slutty photos with her, so yeah!" I fill him in, but it only serves to increase the width of that smile of his.

"Like we're doing now," he alludes. Scowling, I shove off him and attempt to jump off the bed when he grabs me again. "Would you stop squirming so we can get this done?!"

"Alice?" I appeal to her, but she's unmoved.

"Bella, you're being neurotic. Hurry up, already!"

Grudgingly, I settle myself back beside him, and grabbing my wrist, Edward slides my arm over his chest.

"No grabbing my dick this time," he says covertly, his eyes dipping down to my partially covered breasts, and completely losing patience, I move to knee him. He anticipates me though, fighting the urge to laugh again.

"Alice, tell your bloody brother to behave!" I protest.

"Hey, I'm doing you a service here, remember?" he counters, and in response, I snort.

"Don't pretend you're not getting off on it!"

"GUYS!" Alice shouts, immediately silencing us. "Christ!"

"_Okay_!" I snap.

"Arms around him, Bella," Alice directs me, before Edward once more grabs my hand and drapes it over him.

I huff and force myself to comply, and lying my head in the crook of Edward's arm, he snakes his other around my waist.

"Finally!" Alice mutters. "Edward, look at Bella—not me. You're supposed to be unaware I'm taking this, remember?"

Edward rolls to his side to face me, repositioning himself, while his lips twitch in obvious amusement. "Would you relax?"

"Yes, _relax_!" Alice agrees.

Taking a resigned breath, I attempt to loosen myself in his arms, but I'm not very successful.

"Bella, you're on your elbow!" Alice points out.

I don't even realise, and slipping it under the arm he has curved around my shoulders, I rest it against my hair.

"Okay, ready?" Alice puts to us.

"Ready," I mumble, closing my eyes to the sound of her camera shutter repeatedly clicking.

"Don't move!" she orders us as she pauses to look back over the photos. "Oh my god, Edward, you're laughing at her! Try and look at her like you're completely into her."

"Don't say it," I warn him, my eyes flying open just as the grin pulls broad across his face again.

"Say _what_?" He feigns innocence, before clearing his throat like a complete smart arse just to mess with me.

I scowl but otherwise ignore him. My eyes everywhere but on his as Alice continues to click away on her phone.

"Please say you got one!" I bemoan after several moments of silence.

"I have," she replies, her voice brightening as a squeal bursts from her. "Come and see."

I immediately jump up just as Edward slips his index finger beneath my bra strap, pulling it back so it snaps sharply against my shoulder. I immediately react, sucking my breath in violently, as he breaks into laughter completely at my expense.

Past patience, I turn to him and shove him square in the chest. He falls back against the mattress, and I escape off the bed before he can retaliate.

Alice's photo is actually pretty convincing. It's intimate, and while a slight smirk is curved on Edward's lips as he gazes at me, it's relaxed, and from the context as if we were privately joking with each other. My dress is gathered at my waist, and only the back of my bra is visible; even if Edward's fingers are inched a little too close, as if he were contemplating grabbing a handful.

But let's face it, he probably was.

While Alice edits and crops the photo, I hastily pull my arms through the sleeves of my school dress when Edward suddenly closes in behind me and zips it up.

I tense, unsure how to react to him at the moment, when he suddenly pipes up, "Give us a look." He gazes at it for several moments, that crafty grin reforming across his face before glancing down at me. "Pretty convincing, snotface."

Taking a deep breath, I release it with complete exasperation when he suddenly drapes his arm over my shoulders. For a single moment, I actually think he's going to do something decent, as if he's even capable of it, but instead he ushers me and Alice out of his room and slams the door on us.

"Start updating your Facebook, Edward," Alice warns him through the door, before turning to me. "You too."

I drop my head back and utter a moan that's completely overrun with self-pity. "Remind me again why I'm doing this...?" I wonder out loud.

"Revenge, Bella. _Revenge_." Alice chuckles in response. "You are a woman scorned, and my brother is pretty enough—and dense enough—to aid you in it."

"I heard that, midget!" Edward suddenly bellows from behind his bedroom door, and Alice and I both laugh.

"What caption are you going to put with that photo?" I ask Alice once we're safely back inside her room and out of Edward's earshot.

"I've already posted it—see?" she says, holding it out for me to view, and it already has twelve likes; half of them the "wow" reaction.

Above the photo, she simply wrote: **_How the hell did I not know this was going on right under my nose?_**

I have to admit, it's a great photo despite how much trauma it took to capture it, and how much just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

"Alright, I might head home," I say with a heavy sigh. I'm getting a headache, and after the events of today, I'm feeling slightly frazzled and disjointed. "I still need to study."

"Okay, babe," Alice replies, pulling me in her arms. "Tomorrow we're going to work on getting you to relax around him without wanting to kill him."

"Oh god," I groan, and despite myself, I break into a conceding laugh. "Okay."

I'm soaking in the bathtub when I get it. My phone pings with another Facebook notification.

I click it open almost reluctantly, wanting to shy away from whatever it is this time. I've been steadily filling with doubt over the last several hours, and I'm not entirely sure I'm doing the right thing.

Edward and I even in theory is..._ugh_.

Edward has tagged me in a post, and in complete resignation, I click on it.

**_I'm just putting this out there now, if anyone even thinks of hassling my girl they better be prepared to come through me._**

"_What_...?" I utter to myself in complete bewilderment.

Will I ever work this guy out? My best friend's brother who I have known all my life.

I _like_ his comment, deciding to react to it with a love heart for the sake of pretences, then placing my phone on the side of the tub, I completely submerge myself beneath the water as my only means of escape.

Relax around him without wanting to kill him? I'm not sure that's possible.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey, thanks for the awesome response. I'm happy you're liking, so here's a freebie for my gratitude. Plus, I did finish another chapter tonight *ahem* But I'm still nice, right? lol  
This one isn't beta'd either. I'm imperfect, but it should be still readable.  
xoxo**

* * *

**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 3.**

I decide to tell Renee.

I know the moment Edward comes to pick me up for the Farewell, she'll have questions, and a lot of them. Knowing my mother, she'll insist on interrogating me and Edward right then and there, and god only knows the things that will come out of her mouth. I really don't want to give the shithead next door any more ammunition against me, either.

I wait until the next day after school, when Dad's safely out of the house. He's a sergeant at Camden Police Station and not exactly Edward's biggest fan. Edward's a huge partier and my father has broken up more than several where Edward was in attendance; stoned or pissed out of his mind, of course. Another reason why I need my mother on side; to hold back Charlie when he goes for his gun.

I find my mother dancing to The Wiggles in the family room with Jake. In her heels, of course, because she's never out of them. She's The Wiggles number one fan, but she never got over the blue Wiggle, Anthony, retiring.

"Hey, sweetie," she greets me brightly, coming out of a full twirl to hug me and plant her lips to my cheek. "How was your exam?"

"Good," I answer. Today was English in the HSC exams, but as my thoughts inevitably retrace back to school a smirk slyly pulls across my face. Mike glared at me all day, but didn't have the balls to confront me. Not after Edward's message on Facebook the day before. "Can we talk?"

Her eyes immediately burn with curiosity. "Of course. Oh gossip—shall I make coffee?"

"Erm, no," I reply, as my mother hooks her arm around my elbow and leads me to the sofa in the lounge room.

"Okay..." She sits beside me, her face completely animated in anticipation.

Taking an inevitable breath, I begin, "I'm kind of seeing...Edward..."

My mother's expression turns blank for a moment, her head tilting. "Edward...? From next door?"

"Yes."

"...But what happened to Mike?"

I lower my head and run my fingers heavily over my brow. "I'm not sure what happened. It wasn't intentional," I begin when my mother interjects.

"I knew it!" The excitement is suddenly palpable in her voice. "Oh my gosh, he's so handsome—I want all the details!"

I shake my head, beginning to feel my cheeks burn. "I'm still not sure how it happened."

In response my mother squeals. She literally squeals the same way Alice does. "This is so exciting—now honey, you have to be extra careful. Edward's not a school boy. He's a man."

"Mum," I object. "We haven't..." I let it go; it's pointless. My mother's clearly coming to her own conclusions.

"I'm so happy!" she declares. "You know he mows the lawn bare-chested? You'll have to come watch with me next time. I perv on him all the time—"

"Mum!" I'm horrified. "Bloody hell!"

"Oh," she slaps me playfully, before suddenly pulling herself to her feet. "Be right back, sweetie."

She practically prances from the room, clapping her hands to herself as she does. When she returns, she's carrying a book that smells like its origins began in the 70s, before placing it in my hands.

I look down at it; _The Act of Love_, and just as I'm about to throw it back at her in repulsion, my mother explains her motives.

"I think you're ready for this, honey. Boys Edward's age are going to want...certain things, and this book—"

I'm on my feet it an instant, dropping my mother's sex book to the sofa as I do. "Mum! Christ—stop!" I protest.

"Oh, but he's so handsome," she pulls herself beside me, grabbing both my arms, as she continues to gush.

"Handsome?" I echo her in disbelief. "He's a wanker!"

She falters, gazing at me as though I were acting irrationally. "Sweetie, do you have your period?" she asks delicately.

"Oh my god," I burst, hanging my head back in frustration.

"You're all over the place, honey. It's all very new and exciting, I know, but remember to keep your head.—God knows I wouldn't be able to keep mine in his presence."

"Please kill me..." I mutter to myself, before dragging myself toward my bedroom.

Jas is hanging with Alice, so I'm thankful I don't have a reason to go next door and run into shithead. Being in my mother's overexcited company, however, isn't much of a consolation.

Half an hour later my mother creeps into my room, carrying a cup of herbal tea.

"I thought you might like this, sweetie," she says, handing it to me, along with a B12 vitamin—for my _monthly mood swings_.

"Thanks," I say softly, obliging her. Renee's heart is definitely in the right place.

"And..." She sits beside me on my bed and clicks open her phone. "I just want to let you know that I am totally okay with this. You're eighteen..." Before I can ask her what the hell she's on about now, she elaborates by holding her phone out in context.

I freeze, just as the blood in my veins completely runs cold.

It's Alice's photo.

"Mum, _how_...?" My voice fails, and cringing, I drop my face in both palms completely mortified.

"Oh, honey, I have my contacts," she says, her eyes glued to the screen, her shoulders pulling up as an excited sound bursts from her.

"Mum..." I attempt to explain, running my hand back through my hair as the words die on my lips. My mother is zooming in on the photo—on Edward's bare chest!

"_Oh my god_! Please stop!" I burst.

Laughing, she pulls herself to her feet. "Don't worry, I'll make sure your father doesn't see it."

Once she leaves I flop back against my bed, running my hands over my forehead and through my hair in complete and utter exasperation. Surely getting a convincing date to the Farewell is not worth this? Hell, even one-upping Jessica Stanley can't be worth it.

Closing my eyes, I grown loudly to myself, only to be cut off by my message alert tone.

Impatiently I grab it and click it open. It's a bloody text from Edward.

_**Get over here, snotface. We have to take selfies. Midget's orders.**_

_**Not going to happen**_. I reply.

_**Or I'll come there**_. Is his thinly veiled threat complete with a winking emoji.

**I'll be there in 5**. I type back a little too hastily. I definitely don't want him anywhere near my mother at the moment.

_**Wear something hot**_. He adds.

_**Go fuck yourself!**_

_**Isn't that your job now? **_Yeah, he's really enjoying this, and in a fit of frustration I toss my phone to my carpeted floor and pull myself begrudgingly up from my bed.

Changing out of my school uniform, I dress into the most modest outfit I own.

"What are you a nun?" Is how Edward addresses me the moment he opens the door. "It's thirty-eight degrees outside and you're wearing a—what the hell is this, a cardigan?" He grabs me by the sleeve of it and drags me through the door.

I shove him off me. "Hurry up and let's get this over with."

He snorts, smirking to himself and then attempts to grab my hand.

I immediately pull it from him, elbowing him further away from me. "What are you doing?—don't touch me!"

"Don't touch you?" he echoes, a brow pulling high as if challenging me, and in the next moment, he bends down and throws me over his shoulder.

"_Edward!_" I immediately protest, slipping down his back and needing to grip his work shirt to prevent myself from hitting the tiled floor headfirst. "Put me down—_Alice_!"

"She's not home." He laughs, carrying me into his bedroom as if I weigh a bag of sugar. "Just you and me, snotface."

Bending forward, he drops me on his bed, planting his hands on either side of my head as he leans over me. His face is so close to mine I can smell the Coco Pops still on his breath. "Stop bitching or this is going to be a long afternoon." And before pulling back, he flicks me in the forehead.

Flustered, I push him from me, sitting myself upright as I do. "Can you stop manhandling me? We're not kids anymore—it's assault!"

"It's _assault_, is it?" he mocks me, scoffing his obvious amusement through his nose before he yanks on my cardi. "Take this off."

"No." I pull it tighter around me.

"I am not taking a photo with you looking like this!" he insists, placing his index finger to my chest, and when I look down at it he flicks my face.

I huff. "Can you not act like a bloody infant for once!?"

He smirks and sits beside me. "You can take it off and get this shit over in five minutes, or leave it on and hang with me all night. Your choice."

Exhaling heavily, I begrudgingly remove my cardigan and throw it at him.

He catches it and bring it to his nose. "Where the hell did you even get this? The lawn bowl raffles?"

"Funny," I retort dryly, folding my arms across my chest.

"Geez, stop sulking—you know how many girls would love to be in your shoes right now?" he says, flopping down next to me and draping his arm around my shoulders.

I shrug him off. "God you're up yourself."

"You are such a virgin," he replies, placing his arm back round me. "You wanna do this or not?" he puts to me just as I'm about to elbow him.

"Hurry the fuck up, then!" I snap.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby," he teases me against my ear just as I openly cringe and shove him back.

"Where's your phone!" I attempt to sway him off course.

"Charging. Where's yours?"

"I didn't bring it."

"Well"—he pulls me back against the bed with him—"we'll just have to wait until mine's charged.

"Forget it, I'll get mine." I move to pull away from him again, when he drags me back.

"Jesus, snotface, relax already!" He sounds exasperated suddenly. "I'm not going to bite."

"I'm not comfortable doing this," I mumble, folding my arms across my chest again as I grudgingly lie beside him; his arm is still draped loosely around me.

"Why not?" he puts to me, turning to gaze at me. "I've known you your entire life, there's nothing I haven't seen, so what do you think I'm going to do?"

In response, I jerk my head to him. "You have _tormented_ me my entire life," I correct him.

He laughs lightly. "Not always. Remember our sleep-overs in the treehouse, and the time you told me you had a crush on Tyler—whatshisface?"

I immediately groan from the memory and cover my face with both my hands. "Oh god..."

His laughter increases as he suddenly pulls the two of us upright. "Come on," he grabs my hand, "let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

He tugs me after him into the kitchen, where I pull my hand from his and wipe it on my jeans, and just as he disappears in the pantry.

"What do you feel like?" he asks without resurfacing.

"Nothing," I reply.

"Watching your weight?" he decides to mock me again.

"No, I'm just not _hungry_," I insist imitating his tone, when he comes through the pantry doors holding a packet of Arnott's Assorted Creams.

"How are you not diabetic—or grossly overweight?" I ask him in near disbelief as I sit at the kitchen table opposite him and watch him devour the entire bloody pack.

"I work it off." He raises his head and winks at me.

I roll my eyes, and shake my head, but don't say anything in reply.

"If we're going to this dance thing together you need to stop reacting to me like I'm going to roofie you," he points out, a mouth full of biscuit. "Or you'll blow our cover."

I scoff, glancing away from him. "I don't think you're going to roofie me."

"So, what's your problem?"

"You're an arsehole," I state candidly, and of course, he finds this hilarious.

"I only screw with you because I know it irritates you."

"Why do you want to irritate me?"

"Because you're funny."

I only exhale my breath loudly.

"You need to be more like Alice and start slapping me," he adds, and when I raise a questioning brow, he elaborates. "That would turn me on."

I slap the table instead, loudly and he laughs openly. "Would you stop it?"

"So what happened with Mike wanker whatshisname today?" he asks after his laughter dies down.

"Nothing," I answer with a small smile.

"He give you shit?"

"No."

"Really?" He sounds disappointed.

"Really."

"Bugger."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Yeah—I wanted a reason to beat the shit out of him."

"Are you serious?" I demand after a moment of gazing at him. "Why?"

"'Cause he's a dickhead who broke up with a girl because she wouldn't fuck him."

My mouth drops open just as my heart pauses. "Did Alice tell you that!?" I exclaim.

He smirks, scoffing it shortly to himself. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I can read between the lines."

"Well...just mind your own bloody business," I mumble too defensively, covering my face as it burns conspicuously.

He chuckles. "Snotface, are you blushing?"

"No!"

Getting out of his chair with a loud scrape he moves beside me and pulls my hands free. I immediately shove him back but he takes it as permission to force them free.

"Edward, just stop it—will you!" I snap, losing my patience.

He gauges me for a moment, his drawling smirk pulling back across his face again. "You're pretty cute when you're angry."

"_What_?" I say blankly, shaking my head. He's so completely frustrating.

"Jesus, just come on." Grabbing my hand he pulls me from the table, then releasing me, he hooks his elbow around my neck; where I find my face once again squashed against his chest.

By the time we're back in his room I'm covered in his combined scent of deodorant, sweat and woodchips. I'll have to shower the second I get home before my mother catches wind of it.

"Couldn't you have showered? I smell like man sweat!" I protest.

"Man sweat..." he echoes me, taking a whiff of himself and throwing me a strange look. "This is what men are supposed to smell like."

I roll my eyes before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "So how we gonna do this?"

He sits beside me and once more hangs his arm heavily over my shoulders. "Hmm...shall we kiss?"

"No!" I immediately assert.

He snorts only half beneath his breath before nudging my teasingly. "Come on... Imagine psycho Jessica's response if we do."

"I am not kissing you just to get to Jessica Stanley," I insist.

"Stubborn..." he mutters. "You're going to have to kiss me sooner or later, you know?"

I glance at him. "How so?"

He scoffs. "So you're really not going to kiss me once at this dance thing?"

"Do I have to?"

He half shrugs a shoulder, smirking to himself again. "You're fine letting everyone think you show me your tits, but you're not going to kiss me—really?"

"Show you my tits?" I screech and he deliberately cringes away from me. "I had my bra on!"

"I could so totally see the outline of them underneath it, you know," he admits, his entire expression becoming suggestive, and while I'm staring at him dumbfounded, he adds to my humiliation. "You need to wear those padded ones. You can't see shit undern—"

I shove him from me forcefully and he laughs.

"Christ, I'm only messing with you, snotface."

"Okay, I'll make a deal with you," I propose, my voice tense, because I really would like to smack him one. He raises his brows, looking moderately interested and I continue, "I'll kiss you at the Farewell _only _if you stop calling me snotface."

"Kiss me or not, it's your reputation, not mine. I don't mind if anyone knows I'm taking you as a pity date."

"Oh my god!" I explode, jumping to my feet. "I'm going home!" I take a single step away from him when he reaches out and grabs my hand.

"Okay, drama queen," he says dryly, "I won't call you _snotface_ anymore. _Happy_?"

Huffing stiffly, I cave and sit back down beside him. "One snotface and it's over. Deal?"

"All right, but everyone will know this shit between us is all an act."

"I'll just tell them all I have the shits with you," I counter.

He gauges me for a moment, looking completely unconvinced. "Righto, now shut the hell up and stay put for a moment." Leaning over to his bedside table, he yanks the power cord from his phone and opens his camera.

"Now try not to act like I have leprosy—kay," he says, pulling me closer to him, and holding out his phone to take several photos. "Christ, snot-," he pulls himself up at the last minute as he flicks through the pics he'd taken. "Can you at least smile?"

"I was smiling," I grumble.

He tosses the phone on his bed and turns to me. "Have you forgotten I'm doing all this for you? So you won't rock up desperate and dateless to your dance in front of that little arseshit of an ex-boyfriend?"

"No," I murmur petulantly.

"Well, stop being a pain in the neck." And placing his splayed hand to my face he shoves me.

"I would if you'd stop taking every opportunity to laugh at me over it," I retort, shoving his hands away.

"It's funny," he says simply.

I groan. "Hurry up and take the bloody photo."

"Stop being such an ingrate and cooperate!"

"I am willingly subjecting myself to all your ridicule over this—I am _not_ ungrateful!" I burst.

"Jesus Christ, is this what babysitting your little brother feels like?"

"I don't terrorise my little brother," I point out.

Rolling his eyes, Edward drops his head and pushes the heel of his palm into his forehead. "All right," he appears to conclude, then curving his elbow around my neck once more he lays me back with him on his bed. And before I can protest he starts snapping photos.

"Edward." I attempt to resist him and pull out of his arms, when he stops, drops his phone and turns to me, holding me still.

"If you don't stop bitching and get this shit done, I'm going to kiss you," he warns me.

"Um, that's sexual assault—" I retaliate, when he immediately leans himself over me and presses his lips to mine, effectively rendering me mute.

It takes a lot longer to collect my bearings and shove him off me, but I'm flustered more than I'm angry, and I'm angry at myself for allowing him to fluster me.

"Not funny!" I fume, sitting up on the bed and feeling my face darken with equal parts anger and frustration.

"I warned you," he replies nonchalant.

I whip my head to him, even as my eyes steadily fill with tears. "When did this become a game to bloody molest me and see me in my bra? You should be bloody incarcerated!"

He gazes at me for several moments, his brow quirked as if I'm confusing him. "Snotface..." he begins when past patience I pull myself up from his bed and vacate his room.

He catches up to me in the lounge room, grabbing my hand and turning me to him. "Hey..." His voice is softer, a tinge of remorse reflecting in it. "I'm sorry, snot—Bella. I'm sorry, _Bella_," he corrects himself. "I just thought after a year with that wanker Newton you'd be a little more..._at ease _and wouldn't be so uptight. I dunno—Christ, is he a virgin too?"

"_What_?" I utter in complete bewilderment, but before I can continue a small smile begins to pull on his lips.

"He was, and shit...that makes sense." And to top it off the arsehole snorts to himself, fighting the urge to all out laugh.

"What...what is the matter with you?" I demand, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his hair to the back of his neck, "I just forgot that you were so...innocent?"

"_Innocent_?" I repeat, unable to wrap my brain around this guy. "So you thought helping me out meant getting yourself off as well, did you?"

"What?—of course not!" He yanks the same hand forward through his hair in obvious frustration while making a mayhem out of it. "What the hell do you think of me?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'm just messing with you, Bella. I didn't realise you were so bloody innocent and would react this way."

"—Stop calling me _innocent_!" I demand, my face flaming. "I'm _not _innocent!"

He pauses for a moment, his breath pushing stiffly through his nose, before he props both hands on his hips. "You ask me to pretend we're fucking, and then to take you to your fucking end of year shit-thing as your bloody boyfriend, and now you're acting like I'm trying to fucking rape you—Jesus!"

I open my mouth to argue back, when he places his first two fingers to my forehead and pushes me back toward the front door.

"You're just a little kid—get out of here." Then turning his back on me, he walks back in the direction of his bedroom.

"You told everyone we were fucking _first_, Edward!" I yell back at him, even as he holds up his middle finger in response but keeps walking. "And yeah, pardon me for being a virgin!"

"Go home," he says moments before his bedroom door slams.

"I am _not_ innocent!"

* * *

**A/N: was bound to happen... See you next Saturday, Australian Eastern Standard Time. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey, thanks for a the awesome response. I wasn't sure how well shithead would be received, but I guess not badly.  
Just an FYI that this fic is going to be a HEA with ExB, despite a certain beta *cough* Kim *cough* who can't see it. Oh, she of little faith, but hey, if I can get angel Edward and Seer Bella their HEA I can definitely get these two pains in the rear hooked up.  
By the way, chapter 1 and 2 are now edited. Thanks, Kimmie. Chapter 3 and this one aren't because the poor chook is feeling under the weather. I'm not horrendous, though. Should be readable ;)  
Thanks to Starry8 and Amanda who pre-read.  
I'll shut up now. Hope you enjoy.  
**

* * *

**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 4.**

"I don't think we thought this out very well," Alice says delicately, and I'm guessing Edward told her what happened because she came over in her usual whirlwind of energy. "I mean, if you're convincing everyone you and Edward are together then there's certain ways everyone will expect you to behave. Edward thought the same thing."

"Yeah..." I agree with a conceding sigh.

"He wasn't attempting to overstep with you, Bella. I mean he's a prick and a total shit stirrer, but I guess he thought that at the Farewell the two of you would be acting like you're legitimately boyfriend and girlfriend and was leading you into it."

I nod and bury my head in my hand to mask my embarrassment. "I know..." I mumble. "I feel like an idiot. And a kid—exactly what he accused me of being."

"What did he call you? A kid?" Alice asks sounding suddenly irritated. "He's one to talk."

"He kissed me and I completely overreacted," I speak up in his defence, which is bloody poetic.

"You weren't expecting it?" Alice assumes gently, and a completely ironic laugh bursts from me.

"I _totally _wasn't expecting it. I said something about it being sexual assault, and he called me a child and told me to go home."

"God he's an arse!" she snaps, huffing out her annoyance. "He could at least try to be empathetic."

"I _am_ a kid, though, Alice," I murmur, as my skin continues to prickle with mortification. "I can't even _pretend_ to be fooling around with him."

Alice wraps a consoling arm around my shoulder. "It's because Edward's too close. You've known him all your life. Of course it'd be awkward," she attempts to placate me.

"He's right, though..." I admit with a sigh. "Mike broke up with me because of it, and I ended up pissing Edward off, and he's _never _angry."

"Oh he gets angry, don't you worry. You just have to catch him and Dad at each other's throats."

I shrug, letting my shoulders drop as I expel a resigned breath. "It was a silly idea in the first place..."

"Go with Edward to the Farewell and have a good time. After my photo no one will doubt he's with you," Alice says in encouragement.

"You think it will go unnoticed when we're completely platonic around each other? I don't want to spend the entire night being subject to Jessica Stanley's ridicule," I reply, frustrated.

"Fuck her, Bella," Alice says hotly, picking up her phone to scroll through it. "Don't let her ruin anything."

"I know I shouldn't, but she just gets under my skin!" I admit, feeling my face cloud at the mention of her.

"Well, if you want to throw Edward in her face, as well as Newton's, you're going to have to seriously get it on with him. You know that, right?" she says tactfully.

"Yeah, I know," I acknowledge, "but I think Edward's out."

"Yeah, I somehow doubt that..." Alice implies, the amusement clearly in her voice as she gazes down at her phone.

I tilt my head in confusion, when she holds up her phone in emphasis, and just as mine beeps from the other side of my bedroom floor.

Edward tagged me in another post.

_**I'm sorry, Bella. Make-up sex, baby?**_

"Oh, god!" I struggle to keep my voice hushed just as my face bursts into flames. "Alice, my mother will see this."

"Huh? Is she on Facebook?" she enquires.

"No, but she has spies. She saw your photo."

"Oh..." Alice mumbles, fighting the obvious urge to snicker. "What did she say?"

"She gave me her sex manual," I relay, cringing from the continued effects of my mother's enthusiasm for my contrived sex life, and in response Alice bursts into laughter.

"Your mother is _so_ cool." There's a wistful sadness in her voice.

I hang my arm affectionately over her shoulder and change the subject. "Shall I reply?"

"Of course," she replies as if it went without saying.

After retrieving my phone from the place I'd tossed it earlier, I type out a quick reply to Edward's post: _**Not tonight.**_

_**Forgive me? **_He posts in response along with a sad-face emoji.

_**I forgive you. Forgive me?**_

_**Sure, kid. **_He replies with a winking emoji, and while Alice laughs I grumble to myself just barely beneath my breath.

_**You're a smart arse!**_

Along with a laughing emoji, he posts: _**Get over here and we'll take a make-up selfie. **_

"Well come on then," Alice says cheerfully before she hesitates. "But, Bella, are you going to be able to pull this off with him?" It's reassuring to know she has this much faith in me.

"I'll be fine," I assure her.

"Just remember," she reminds me after wrapping her arm around my shoulders and leading me out of my bedroom, "you're just acting."

"Just acting..." I echo.

"You forgot your granny jumper," Edward says ambushing us the moment we walk through the door; holding my cardigan out to me as a wry smirk twitches on his lips.

I sigh heavily but in complete resignation. "Thanks."

His smirk turns to a grin. "So, you over all your anal-retentiveness?" He quirks a brow.

"Shut up, I'm fine," I insist before he grabs my elbow and tugs me toward his room.

"I'm going to call Jas," Alice announces all too conveniently.

I only roll my eyes and allow Edward to pull me into his bedroom.

"So..." he begins, picking up his phone and deleting the pics he'd taken earlier, "why are you so at ease all of a sudden?"

"Alice explained to me how ridiculous I was acting," I admit with a certain degree of humility even as I'm cringing internally.

"Alice explained to you?" he puts to me, that brow of his cocked for added measure.

I nod and half shrug in answer.

"But when I explained it to you, you chucked a hissy."

"That's because Alice can speak to me without mocking me," I point out, and he smiles slightly to himself. It suddenly occurs to me that he's pretty bloody ridiculously good looking. "Ugh..." I burst, without even realising it.

"What?" he queries. "You're not going to be a pain in the neck again, are you?" he concludes.

"I said I was fine," I insist.

With all the disastrous photos from earlier deleted, he sits himself beside me on his bed. "Can you handle just mucking around with me?" he asks and he almost sounds serious.

"_Yes_," I stand firm.

"You sure, because I don't want you getting all needy on me again." His brow knots, and I scoff.

"Well, I don't want to be an inconvenience, or anything," I say, unsure whether I have the right to be offended by him.

He rolls his eyes. "You already are."

I shove him. "So are you."

The smirk ghosts on his face this time, before it fades. "I just don't want it to complicate shit," he explains.

"...What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"You're my sister's _BFF_," he mocks me, quoting it with his fingers. "I've known you all my life. It has the potential to be as awkward as shit."

"So, why'd you agree?"

He shrugs. "'Cause I enjoy messing around with you."

"That's how you'll see it."

He appears to contemplate it for a moment, before his gaze fixes on me and half a smile tugs on his lips. "Well, yeah."

"Okay..."

"Are you going to get all needy, though?" he asks, his eyes trained on mine.

I huff in frustration. "I _still_ don't get your meaning."

"You're not going to get attached to me, or anything?" he elaborates, and I roll my eyes.

"God, you're up yourself. Despite what you've apparently been told, Edward, you're not _that_ irresistible."

"I am pretty irresistible, though," he jokes, his smile playful this time, and I can only shake my head at how self-assured he is.

"Yeah, sure..." I humour him.

"So, _hypothetically_, if you were really my girlfriend and we were at some fancy event, I'd be doing a lot more to you than that priss-boy, Newton. Anything less and it won't be convincing. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah..." I say, wryly.

"I'm serious," he adds, and if he is or not I'm not sure. "If you start getting all shy and virgin with me all of Alice's photos will mean shit, and if you make a dick out me I'll be pissed off."

"_Virgin_?" I protest, whacking him. "I'm sorry I even told you."

He laughs. "I already knew, and see? You're hitting me. That's good."

I sigh heavily and in exasperation. "Okay, let's get our _make-up selfie_ over and done with."

"Can I touch you without you freaking out?" he puts to me dryly.

"_Yes_." I exaggerate it.

"Good," he murmurs, his smirk returning again, "we're finally getting somewhere."

We manage to take some pretty goofy, but convincing photos. It involved me sitting on his lap for the most part, but once I learned to relax and not take things too seriously, I found I almost had fun with him.

Of course he had to go and ruin it, though.

"You know," he says huskily, close to my ear while I sit over what I _swear_ is expanding, "that virgin problem of yours? I can help you out there."

"Oh my god!" I burst, shoving him from me.

Laughing easily, he allows himself to fall back against his bed.

"I'm going to Alice's room," I inform him, making a move toward his door.

"Oi," he blurts out, jumping up and grabbing my hand.

"What?" I ask with a sigh.

"At some point we're going to have to practice how _actual couples_ behave," he says, the grin tugging on his lips again and giving away the fact that he's totally having a dig at me.

"Why do we have to practice?" I ask, feeling my face flash.

"Because you'll no doubt spazz out, or shove me off you, or something virgin like that."

"Can you _not_ say _virgin_ every bloody two minutes," I demand, quickly becoming irritated at him again.

He grins like a total smart arse, but doesn't say anything.

"Just surprise me," I say with a sigh.

"Surprise you..." he mumbles, obviously weighing it up as he rubs his chin. "Like this?" And without warning, and in one motion, he takes a step closer to me, curls his arms around me and bends down to kiss me.

Without thinking about it, I jerk away from him before forcefully pulling from his arms until I find myself flush against the back of his door.

"Like that...?" he murmurs completely bloody impressed with himself having just proven his point.

I huff, both mortified and frustrated at myself. "Okay, well maybe warn me first."

"Warn you? Hm..." He tilts his head to the side, before his gaze once more catches mine. "Okay, I'm going to kiss you." And exactly like a moment ago, he comes rushing at me, pulling me towards him before I can react.

And when I react, I react badly. I instantly wedge my palms into his chest, forcefully maintaining the distance between us and moving my head to the side to prevent any contact between our lips.

"Jesus..." he mutters, and while he doesn't roll his eyes, I can clearly hear it in his voice.

"Slowly!" I snap. "You're coming at me too fast!"

"Slowly?" he echoes me again, arching his brow. "Slowly like we're a couple of twelve year old virgins who've never touched each other before?"

"Stop saying _virgin_!" I screech. "Seriously, can you help yourself?"

He laughs; it's completely beneath his breath, but enough that it's obviously for my benefit.

"You're an arse," I grumble turning my back on him to open his door, when he puts out both his hands and pushes it closed again.

"Slowly?" he puts to me after I turn back to him, leaving his hands resting against the door above me, as I subtly cower. "You want me to go _slowly_?"

"Erm...yeah...?" I utter so unsure of myself that it only increases with width of his amusement.

"You sure?" he asks, leaning closer to me still.

"Yeah..." I slink back further against the door, my hand reaching behind me for the handle.

"Last chance, snotface..." He's so close to me now I can feel the heat of his breath wash over my lips, but _snotface_?

On complete impulse I knee him in the groin, and he reacts like I electrocuted him. He jerks while a reflexive sound bursts from him, before he drops to the floor and clutches his stricken anatomy tightly with both hands.

"Oh—Jesus!" he finally bursts, groaning loudly like he's in bloody labour.

I'm not sticking around to find out, though, and opening the door, I escape to Alice's room.

"Do I really want to know?" she asks, looking up from her phone as she sits in the middle of her bed, relaying her obvious amusement at my expense.

"Edward...might not be talking to me for a while..." I confess, my expression deliberately pained.

She chuckles. "What happened this time?"

"I might have..." I begin when Edward suddenly bursts into Alice's room, making me practically jump out of my skin.

"You wanted me to surprise you, so I did, and that didn't work!" he hollers, even as the pain he's still clearly in makes it difficult for him. "You wanted me to warn you, so I did, and that didn't work, and then you wanted me to go slow, so I bloody did and you fucking took my balls out!"

Behind me Alice starts scoffing back her breath in an obvious effort to stop herself from laughing, while I only gazed at him sheepishly.

"Sorry?" I offer up meekly.

"Sorry," he repeats, almost laughing humourlessly to himself while needing to lean up against the door frame for support.

"What were you trying to do? Kiss?" Alice pipes up, and in response Edward scoffs.

"I kneed you because you called me _snotface_," I speak up in my defence even as Edward continues to glare at me. "And I...didn't mean to..."

"Seriously, did you do _anything_ with that wanker Newton?" he asks, obviously exasperated.

"Yes!" I insist affronted, before immediately shaking my head and attempting to wind it back. "And...and—it's none of your bloody business!"

Despite how tense and strangled from pain he is, he smirks to himself, and he really is a shithead.

"It's because it's _you_, Edward," Alice explains, and his eyes leave mine to narrow on hers.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He sounds suddenly offended.

"She's known you her entire life, and every single day of her life you've teased her, pulled her hair, put bugs in her clothes, called her _snotface_, tripped her over"—the arsehole actually starts grinning to himself—"I mean _seriously_, of course it's going to be awkward for her," Alice attempts to clarify on my behalf.

"Thank you, Alice," I add, relieved at least that someone can articulate it, just as my message alert tone signals. In silence thanks I pull it from my pocket. It's my mother. "My mum's calling me for dinner. I have to go."

I move to exit Alice's room but Edward remains in the doorway, scowling down at me.

"What? You going to hold me captive as punishment?" I put to him with a small smile.

He releases a breath, shaking his head slightly to himself, then hooks his elbow around my neck and drags me to him. "Come on, Snow White, I'll walk you out."

"Edward—stop being so rough!" I yell, feeling like I'm going to suffocate against his chest, and the sweaty carpenter smell of him that really shouldn't be as appealing as I'm suddenly finding it.

He releases me on the porch, and after straightening out my hair I shove him. "Stop bloody manhandling me all the time!"

Naturally he only scoffs back his amusement, before he says matter-of-factly, "I don't think you can handle it."

"Handle..._what_?" I ask, but I know exactly what he's getting at.

He scoffs again, but doesn't answer.

"Hi, guys!" My mother suddenly calls out, and when I turn to her, she's standing on our driveway with an overtly animated expression on her face. "Take your time."

"Ugh..." I slide both my hands in my back pockets and hang my head back in frustration.

"What's all that about?" Edward asks curiously. "Hey, Mrs Swan," he replies, lifting his chin and smiling back at her.

"I told her."

He glances back down at me, his eyebrows raised. "The lie or the truth?"

"The lie."

"Ahh..." he appears to contemplate it before shoving both his hands in the side pockets of his pants. "Shall I give her proof?" He cocks a self-assured brow at me.

"Don't you dare," I warn him.

"See? This is what I'm getting at. You want me to pretend we're together, but you refuse to do anything with me."

"I'm not _refusing_!" I insist, keeping my voice hushed, because no doubt my mother is lurking somewhere close, listening in.

"Bullshit," he says simply, shrugging a shoulder. "And you need to apologise to Mr Doobee."

"Mr who?—_what_?" I utter in disbelief at how immature he is. "You call your...your _penis_ Mr Doobee?"

"My penis?" He starts laughing. "Holy shit... You are such a virgin."

"I'm leaving!" I take a step away from him when he pulls me back again.

"Close your eyes," he instructs me.

"What? No."

"Just do it," he says, beginning to sound impatient.

"W-why?" I stammer.

"Why do you think?"

"My mother's probably watching," I say in a feeble defence.

"So, let her watch."

"Edward..."

"Snotface..." he imitates me. "Close your bloody eyes."

"_Fine_," I whisper, and with my heart beginning to hammer furiously, I comply.

I feel his body heat as he comes closer, and then his stubbly face as it slides over mine. "If you knee me again I'm going to grab your tits," he murmurs in my ear, his breath rushing from him as he attempts not to laugh, while I all but tense.

My eyes fly open and I shove him away from me. "You could have kissed me, but instead you chose to give me shit! This is what I'm talking about—what _Alice_ was talking about!" I'm pissed off and flustered, and I've had enough of being called _innocent_ and _virgin_ for one day.

"God..." he mutters, and in the next moment he cups both his hands to my face, angles me to him, and before I can react, his lips are pressed over mine.

My heart stalls, and for a moment I feel suddenly faint. I reach out and grab him, only I'm not sure what to do, or how to respond, when he pulls back, only fractionally, and kisses me again. This time he appears to pause.

"Snotface..." he mumbles against my lips. "Open your mouth..." And with one of his hands still cupping my cheek he attempts to tug open my bottom lip with his thumb.

"Okay..." he eventually pulls back and says with a short, resigned sigh, while I'm practically swaying and plummeting into the seventh circle of Hell. "We'll work on it tomorrow." And placing his palm to my forehead like he usually does, he shoves me backward. "Go home."

I stumble down the single step off the porch, almost losing my foot, before I turn around and head in the direction of my house. I don't look back but I can hear the shithead attempting not to outright laugh at me before the sound of his front door opens and then closes behind him.

"I'm in hell..." I mutter to myself, dragging my legs forward and wanting to die, when my mother pops out from the side of the house. Apparently in the guise of watering her pot plants.

"So?—how was it?" she asks, her face beaming back her obvious pride and excitement. "Do you have pash rash?—I have some cream for that."

"_Mum_..." I sigh, but I don't have the energy for her. I walk past her toward the door.

"Is he a good kisser? He looks like a good kisser!" she continues to probe from behind me, before encircling her arm around my waist. "My little girl is growing up. Perhaps we should get you on the pill!"

I manage to escape my mother's enthusiasm, though I practically have to slam the bathroom door in her face, and just as my phone pings.

_**I am a good kisser. You we have to fix. **_Edward texts to me not thirty seconds later, while I want to melt through the floor with the knowledge he was listening.

_**I know how to kiss, you just surprised me!**_ Is my pitiful attempt to justify my abominably horrendous reaction to him, and of course Edward only responds with laughing emojis.

_**I'll get you up to scratch. Don't worry, snotface.**_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and now I'm off to play The Sims. Got me some lush mods.  
P.S., this fic now has a banner. It's on my profile made by the awesome Beegurl13 - who made my Vertigo banners. Go have a suss. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Shithead has been taking to me - a lot. So, I thought I'd be decent and do a quick update. If I stay this far ahead with the chapters I'll try and update more frequently than once a week.**  
**This chapter is edited by me, so if I use repetitive words or my commas are a bit skewered, don't roll your eyes too much. Kim will get to them soonish.  
****Thanks to Starry8 and Amanda for pre-reading. Sorry, biebs, for leaving you hanging ;)**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 5.**

"Sweetie," my mother says, poking her head into my room exactly half a second after knocking twice, "Edward's here." Her expression is as enthusiastic as it's been since I told her about "us" only now it's fit to bursting with the knowledge that he's apparently on our doorstep.

"What?" I reply, unable to mask the annoyance from my voice. "Why is he picking me up?" I wonder out loud, brushing past my mother to see for myself whether he's really here.

He is.

He's waiting in the foyer, and while I stare at him unashamedly for several awkward moments, he turns, catches my gaze and winks. In response I blink vacantly before promptly turning back around and into my bedroom.

"Tell him I'll be out in a sec," I mumble, knowing my face is flushing as boldly as I can feel it.

"He looks so handsome!" My mother feels the need to fill me in and for once I agree with her.

He does.

I'm used to seeing him in his work wear, his _dirty _workwear, with his hair a mess, but right now he looks...nice. He's wearing a blue checked shirt, a decent pair of jeans, and either he's had his hair cut, or he decided to comb it—and wash it.

It's Friday night and we're going to the movies with Alice and Jas. It was Alice's idea, of course. To get us out in public was her reasoning. It's our first real test. At least, _my_ first real test.

I'm not ready, and I'm kicking myself for making the decision to avoid him yesterday. I decided to go late night shopping with my mother for sexy underwear (for me) instead of allowing Edward to _get me up to scratch_; as he'd promised in his message Wednesday night. He decided to punish me for being a no-show by tagging me in all manner of suggestive Facebook posts; that my mother later saw, and relished in reading. I threatened to take out_ Mr Doobee_ for good this time, but of course, he only laughed and completely twisted it in order to torture me more.

"Do you still have those condoms I gave you?" my mother asks covertly in my ear and I practically jump out of my skin.

"Mum!" I burst, before being forced to lower my voice. "It's not like that."

"Oh, honey..." She's laughing beneath her breath completely unconvinced, but since Edward did allude to the fact that I give good head...

God, I'm going to kill him.

"Why are you here?" I demand the second after dragging him back through the front door.

"What?" he asks feigning innocence. "I'm supposed to pick you up. Besides, your mother loves me." He chuckles to himself, deliberately pushing it through his nose like he often does. Just to stir me.

"I could have met you at your house," I say with a huff, and that's where I'm heading when he suddenly curves his arm around my shoulders and turns me to the left.

"This way, snotface," he says, motioning to his car parked out front. His black Ford Ranger that looks just as dirty as he often does.

"I...I thought we were all going in Alice's car?" I stammer, hesitating for a second before he ushers me forward again.

"That piece of crap? Christ, I don't know about you, but I do value my life." He opens the passenger side door and motions for me to get in.

"Am I going to need a ladder?" I assert, gazing at it wearily for a moment.

"Here, Rapunzel," he says dryly, taking my hand and helping me to the step before I climb awkwardly inside.

After pulling himself into the driver's side a moment later, he turns to me. "You look pretty decent, snotface."

"If you call me snotface—" I begin through clenched teeth when he tugs my hair, effectively cutting me off.

"Lighten up. I'm only kidding." He laughs. "But I'm serious, you look nice." He slots his key into the ignition and turns over the engine with a sly smirk on his face. "Almost like a girl."

I only exhale into an irritated huff but decide not to take the bait.

"So what happened yesterday?" he puts to me after five minutes of silence as he drives.

"My mum took me shopping," I answer simply, gazing out the window in hopes he won't see the bullshit on my expression.

"You were avoiding me," he concludes.

"I wasn't," I insist and when I turn to glance at him it's obvious he's not buying it.

"Sure you weren't," he says lightly, all too self-assured.

"What was with all those Facebook posts you tagged me in, by the way?"

The grin lights up on his face again even as he keeps his eyes on the road. "Just making up for lost time."

"You know my mother sees my wall, don't you?"

"What?" He glances at me, and it's obvious he finds it hilarious before he starts chuckling. "And she still likes me. Interesting..."

"Yeah, she thinks you're a total spunk," I say dryly, watching as his grin broadens.

"You're old lady has good taste."

"Oh my god..." I murmur.

"What about you?" he puts to me, flicking on his indicator to change lanes.

"What about me?"

"Do you think I'm a spunk?"

"Of course I don't," I state straight up.

"So you think I'm ugly," he replies without skipping a beat.

I roll my eyes. "You're not ugly."

"I'm not ugly, but I'm not a spunk. Hm..."

"Stop fishing. You're head's already the size of China."

"One out of ten."

"What?"

"Where do I rank?"

"I'm not—"

"Seriously," he says. "I'll do you."

"Let me guess, a two?" I pre-empt him.

He laughs through his nose again as if he thinks everything that comes out of my mouth is amusing. "Not even close."

"One?"

"Nine," he counters simply, completely surprising me.

"What?"

"Sure." He glances at me and smiles, and there's only a hint of smart arse behind it.

"_Nine_?" I repeat, unconvinced.

"Nine," he insists.

"Why am I a nine?"

He deliberately sighs. "Nice hair, those cheekbones, pretty eyes, kissable lips—even though you're shit at it."

"—shut up!"

He laughs again. He has a nice laugh. It's smooth...

"So why aren't I a ten?" I ask, curious.

"You're tits are too small," he replies, too bloody candidly.

"They're not small!" I decide to argue with him. No idea why.

"Yeah they are," he replies nonchalantly as if it were common knowledge.

I huff my breath forcefully, feeling my face flame. I know he's only stirring me but I have the sudden compulsion to cover myself. I don't, though. He'll notice. "Don't forget I saw you completely naked a few days ago. You shouldn't be calling anyone _small_."

A full grin spreads across his face again. "You think I'm small?"

"Yes." I've let him drag me into a childish back-and-forth that's completely one-sided. Meaning I've left myself open for more torture.

He appears to contemplate it for a moment. "Okay...but compared to who?"

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm jarred, and by the not so subtle smirk replacing his grin we both know I've just been check-mated.

I have to face it, there's just no out-smart-arsing him.

Not that I ever stood a chance.

He laughs again.

"So, what about me?" he prompts me at a red light half a minute later.

"What about you?" I reply begrudgingly.

"One out of ten..."

I sigh and rub my forehead, but decide to humour him. I contemplate it knowing if I tell him he's a nine he'll think I'm just copying him without any thought behind it. If I tell him he's a ten, though, he'll remind me of it for the rest of my life. And I can't tell him he's an eight; his ego will never stand for it.

"It can't be that hard," he says when I fail to answer him. "I'm a ten. You can admit it."

"You are _not _a ten!"

"Then what am I?" He feigns frustration, whereas mine is genuine.

"Okay, you're a bloody spunk—are you happy?"

He is, and he wears that bloody smirk on his face all the way to the cinema.

"Would you stop looking so bloody pleased with yourself," I demand as he helps me out of his car, hands under my arms as if I were five. In my defence his car is huge and I practically fell out against him anyway.

"What?" He puts on the innocent act before pulling me closer to him and curling his arm around my shoulders.

I let him. Half our school comes to the mall on a Friday night and this is basically a dress rehearsal.

He leads me towards the escalators and once we're out of the underground carpark, and on the bottom floor of the mall, we pass a large group of people; several of them girls. Girls who know Edward; girls who look me deliberately up and down, before they all chorus out a similar greeting to him.

"Hey," he replies, and for a moment I'm sure he's going to stop and chat, but he doesn't. Instead, he releases his hand from around me and grabs my hand; pulling me along with him.

"Do your fangirls follow you everywhere?" I say wryly as we leave the mall onto the courtyard that leads to the cinema.

He immediately grins. "I can't help it if I'm popular."

In response I snort. "Popular? You're a total whore."

"Whore? I'll have you know that I have just come out of a long term, monogamous relationship with Lauren Mallory." And with the same hand clutching mine—and without letting it go—he wraps it around my shoulders again.

"Rosalie Hale?" I remind him, because god knows she told everyone.

"She was _before _Lauren," he clarifies. "I met her at a party. She was pissed, I was pissed... She was pretty lousy in the sack, actually." He smirks again as if recalling it.

"Not the way she tells it," I say. "Apparently you were _so _in love with her beauty."

His brow quirks and he scoffs to himself as if it's ridiculous. "If you go for that playboy bunny type."

I'm more satisfied that he wasn't into Rosalie than I'd like to admit.

"...So, Lauren and Rosalie? Is that all?"

"And...my boss's daughter," he admits simply.

"How are you not sacked?" I ask in disbelief, and he chuckles.

"I made sure her old man didn't find out."

"So three. Really?" I'm not convinced.

"Four."

"Four?"

"Emily," he adds.

"Emily...who?"

"I don't know her last name, but she was _that _girl."

"What girl?" I ask, puzzled.

"The girl I lost it to," he replies, glancing down at me.

"Hm," I say, contemplating it. "So Edward Cullen has only been with four girls."

"How many did you think?"

"Well, I thought _bad boys _had tons of girls, not a handful."

"Who said I was a bad boy?"

"You did."

"I was mocking midget." It's obvious he enjoys this banter with me, the grin has barely left his lips. "What about you—how many?"

"Don't be a smartarse," I nudge him, and he chuckles again.

"How long are you going to be wearing that chastity belt your old man has around you?"

Pulling my hand from his, I elbow him. "It's not like that," I insist. "It just hasn't felt right."

"You know, they say you should get it out of the way with someone you trust. That way they'll look after you," he bends down and says against my ear, the innuendo behind his words blatant. This is despite the fact that he's completely laughing at me again.

I stomp on his foot, or attempt to anyway, but naturally he's anticipating me and completely avoids it. "_Get it_—first of all, I don't want to _get it out of the way_ like it's a bloody tetanus shot! I'm waiting for the right person."

"It's never the right person the first time. Believe me, you'll never want to see them again."

"Speaking from experience?" I ask, raising a brow.

"Pretty much."

"Terrible, were you?" I tease him, and I'm a little surprised by how honest he's being.

He catches my gaze and smiles, but this time it's kind of ironic. "I was, yeah."

I suck in my breath, mocking him. "So he's human after all."

With his arm still draped around my neck, he squeezes me. "I got it right the second time..."

"You are _so_ vain," I retort while he laughs lightly to himself. "So, why'd you break up with Lauren?"

"She was screwing around," he answers casually. Way too casually.

I stop and turn to him. "Really?"

"Yes, _really_."

"Who with?" We begin walking again. I can see Alice in the distance with Jas and a group of people from our year.

He shrugs. "Some friend of her brother, I dunno."

His tone has dropped and I discreetly peek up at him. He's not giving anything away, but he definitely sounds...bothered.

"Did you love her?" I ask, my tone softening.

"I thought I did," he answers, way too simply again.

"So, you know what it's like to get dumped and yet you totally gave me shit on Monday," I remind him, recalling my offense to it.

He smirks. "Yeah, but I mean, _Mike Newton_?" he says, cocking a dubious brow in emphasis. "He's a _fuckwit_. You can do so much better than him, Bella."

_Bella...?_

I open my mouth to reply, unsure of what to say, when Alice calls us over.

She introduces Edward to the several people who don't know him—as my boyfriend. In return he's friendly, not the obnoxious shithead I'm used to seeing, before he releases his arm from around me to greet Jas. The two of them disappear while I spend the majority of the time staring down at my feet.

"I have a theory, snotface," Edward murmurs in my ear roughly twenty minutes later, wrapping his arm around my neck and offering me a bite of his half-eaten Snicker's bar.

I shake my head, waving it away before I turn to him. "What theory?" I ask him suspiciously.

"That you're in love with me," he answers covertly in my ear so he won't be overheard before grabbing my hand and pulling me off to the side.

I huff and almost laugh, incredulous. "Please tell me you're joking?"

"Nope." He shakes his head once. "I've been watching you this whole time acting like this quite little mouse, all red faced and shy..."

"What's your point?" I demand, attempting to keep my voice lowered.

"You're not like that with me," he gives away the bloody punchline way too confidently, and I only snort.

"That's because I don't see you as a member of the opposite sex."

He does not react like I expect him to; he snorts. "Nope," he repeats.

"_What_? _Yes_!" I counter.

He shakes his head again. "You said I'm a spunk, remember?" he reminds me.

"You said I'm a nine out of ten." We're back to this banter again; that I'm going to lose.

"You are." He shrugs simply.

"So are you in love with me?" I raise my brows, emphasising my point, and of course he only smirks.

"The difference is, my entire personality doesn't change around you. Whereas _yours_ does."

I open my mouth to reply before I quickly shut it; realising he's completely stumped me again. "I'm the same way around you as I am with Alice. I've just known you both forever," is my feeble counter-argument.

His smirk broadens, his laughter muffled through his nose, before he drapes his arm around my shoulders again. "By the way," he leans down to speak against my ear, "priss boy and psycho Stanley are here."

"_What_?" I immediately tense.

"Don't look!" he orders me as I'm about to do just that. "Remember what I said. If you act all virgin and make a dick out of me..." he abandons it, only to elaborate on it with a cocked brow.

"Would you stop saying _virgin _every bloody two seconds!" I snap, just barely managing to keep it beneath my breath. He was so nice not long ago, too. Now he's back to being a complete jerk.

"So, could you talk to Newton like you can with me?" he decides to continue to annoy me.

I sigh in resignation because there really is no point arguing with him. "I _told you_, I can only talk to you and Alice this way."

"Does he still bother you?" he asks almost casually after a moment.

I gaze up at him just in time to see him wink at someone in the crowds. "What the hell are you doing?"

He glances down at me, looking way too sure of himself. "Giving psycho something to write about in her diary."

"Oh my god," I mumble dropping my head to my palm just as he pulls me flush against his chest.

"Put your arms around me," he says softly against my ear.

"Don't kiss me," I warn him, and he scoffs.

"As if I'm that stupid." And without waiting for me to comply, he grabs both my wrists and wraps them around his waist. "Would you relax?"

I sigh heavily. "Are they gone?"

"They're hanging with the loser's crowd," he replies lightly leaning his chin on the top of my head. "They both keep looking over at us, though." He suddenly snorts back his laughter.

"Good," I murmur.

"You know I'm going to beat the shit out of Newton if I get him alone," he informs me, and he sounds almost serious.

"No you're not."

"You reckon?"

"Aren't you a bit old for that now?"

"There's a code."

"What code?"

"I have to kill anyone who fucks over my sister or her best friend."

"You just made that up," I accuse him, pulling back to meet his eyes.

"As your boyfriend it's my job to eliminate any arsehole who upsets you." He raises his eyebrows.

"You aren't my boyfriend," I add, though I make sure to lower the tone of my voice.

"Until the dance, I am," he reminds me.

I sigh again and he pulls me back against him. "You must still like him."

"I _do _not. He's a wanker," I say a little too passionately.

"Then why don't you want me to hurt him?"

"Because then he'll know he upset me."

"Hm..." he murmurs. "Fair point. Okay, I'll make it seem like an accident."

I only groan just fractionally beneath my breath just as Alice grabs my hand.

"Okay break it up, you two," she says, raising her voice just high enough for people outside our group to hear. "You guys are convincing more than Just Mike and Jessica," she adds furtively, sounding impressed. "All the guys have never seen you so relaxed before, Bells."

"That's 'cause she's in love with me," Edward quickly inserts just as I elbow him in the ribs. He laughs, and Alice along with him.

"Anyway, we're going to buy the snacks. You coming?" she explains.

"What about the tickets?" I ask before Edward pulls two from his pocket and flicks my forehead with them.

"You didn't have to buy me one," I insist.

"Geez, if you're going to go all feminist on me you can buy the food." He rolls his eyes.

Alice pulls me toward the Candy Bar while Edward moves in the opposite direction.

"Where's he going now?" I wonder out loud.

"Stop stressing, girl," Alice teases me. "If looks could kill, you'd be road kill right now," she suddenly mumbles in my ear at the popcorn dispenser.

"Huh?" I ask, pulling open a medium-sized box to fill.

"Jessica is so totally death staring you." She giggles, and I smirk but don't comment.

"Is that all you're getting?" Edward is suddenly beside me again, pulling the popcorn from my hands.

"I thought I'm buying the food," I remind him.

"Will you stop bitching—geez!" he mutters just as I spy all the snacks he's carrying for himself. He has an armful, and I'm suddenly grateful he's deciding to play gentleman.

"If I ate that much sugar my face would explode," I grumble after Edward hands the cashier a fifty dollar note.

He chuckles and leads me toward the usher collecting the tickets. "Well, we can't all be blessed. Grab them out of my pocket."

"What?"

"The tickets, they're in my pocket," he explains, attempting to look over the mountain of popcorn, drinks and chocolate he's carrying to his jeans.

"...But..."

"Jesus, Bella, since when are you so shy!" he raises his voice suddenly for the benefit of the group passing us while the usher smirks to himself.

"Please kill me," I mutter beneath my breath, quickly slipping my palm into his front pocket to grab them; making sure to avoid _anything else_.

"Cinema one," the usher directs us, ripping the tickets in half and handing me back the two stubs.

"You're having way too much fun with all this, aren't you?" I mutter to Edward as we make our way into the cinema.

"Hey, my reputation is on the line too you know," he says. "What row are we in?"

"Third from the back," I answer after smoothing out the crumbled tickets in my fists.

We're in the love seat, the two seats without an armrest between them, and I'm immediately suspicious. "Did you pick these seats deliberately?" I demand in barely a whisper; the cinema is close to being full, after all, and we're surrounded by too many people from school.

"Of course I did," he replies, oozing with self-assurance as usual. "Pull my phone out of by back pocket, will you?"

I pause for a brief moment, then sighing quietly and beneath my breath, I remove his phone the same way I did the tickets.

I swear he's doing this on purpose.

"Why aren't we sitting with Alice and Jas?" I ask after begrudgingly sitting beside him and allowing him to drape his arm around my shoulders.

"I can't feel you up in front of my sister," he answers, leaning closer to me, "that's just fucked up!"

"Edward!" I burst a little too loudly, earning several scoffs and snickers from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and suddenly finding myself eye-to-eye with my scowling ex-boyfriend. "Great..." I mutter.

"What are you bitching about now?" Edward asks leaning closer to me until he's practically making contact with my earlobe.

"_They're_ behind us," I whisper back.

"Yeah?" His brow raises and he's clearly impressed with the fact they are.

"Don't look!" I warn him.

"I don't need to," he smirks and drops his voice, "but it means you have to let me kiss you."

"Edward..." I sigh.

"You just have to relax—and open your mouth a little bit," he murmurs while his eyes zero in on my lips. "Just don't peak on me."

I don't reply; I'm not sure I can, and for the next half-hour I sit and wait both nervously and full of anticipation for him to make his move. The worst of it is I'm not sure what I'm feeling more, but I'm starting to think it's the latter. That's not to say he doesn't torment me, because he does. He steals my popcorn then decides to feed it to me; he smudges my cheek with his choc-top and attempts to lick it back off; and lastly, he slides him hands a little too further along my inner thigh.

"Stop it!" I demand in a harsh whisper, forcing his hands back and elbowing him in the ribs, and of course, he only chuckles. "Are you even watching the movie?"

"Why would I when watching you is better?" He arches a single brow, and I roll my eyes.

"Has that ever worked on _anyone_?" I say dubiously.

"You'd be surprised."

"I'd be shocked."

"I must be rubbing off on you, snotface. You're becoming a pretty decent smartarse."

"Don't call me _snotface_!" I snap, struggling to keep my voice hushed.

He groans only half beneath his breath. "It's been what? An hour? You're not even close to being relaxed. How the hell am I supposed to grope you when you're stiffer than a corpse?"

"You grope me and I'll machete Mr Doobee!" I threaten him and I'm not joking. Kissing him is one thing but he's pushing the bloody envelope. "I thought you were going to kiss me?!" Yeah, that comes out all wrong, and of course shithead takes full advantage.

"Getting antsy, are you?" he drawls, his smirk growing broad. "See, I knew you were in love with me," he adds after rendering me speechless.

I only huff, elbowing him again to increase the distance he's sitting from me. He scoffs and tosses a handful of popcorn at me in response, and pretty soon my anticipation becomes frustration.

That's when he makes his move.

We're at the halfway point of the movie when he curls his arm around my shoulders and eases close to me again. That seems to be all there is to it, when a couple of minutes later he starts to play with my hair with his free hand before tucking it behind my ears. Then, leaning slowly toward me, he plants his warm lips to the curve of my neck and shoulder in a way that immediately makes my skin prickle and my breath shorten. Mike never made me react to him like this; not in the nine months of his clumsy, over eager advances.

He kisses me again, slowly and just below my ear before his palm slides to my cheek, turning my head to face him.

I open my mouth to speak. I'm not sure why but before I can figure it out he takes my parted lips with his. There's not much to it at first. He kisses me briefly but tenderly before he pulls back slightly and kisses me again.

And then again. And then again.

He tastes like chocolate, caramel, salted butter popcorn, and mint, and god, I quickly feel like I'm losing my head. It sounds like a ridiculous cliché, but all sound around us becomes muted. The movie, the audience, the sounds of wrappers crinkling, until the only thing I can hear is his breath and the sensation of his lips merging and parting repeatedly with mine. And my heart; my heart as it hammers loudly and heavily against my ribcage with each second that passes.

He doesn't break to tell me to relax or to open my mouth, and to be honest I'm not really conscious of whether I'm doing anything right or wrong. It's easy to simply let him lead me, and reacting to him is suddenly effortless. There's nothing forced on my part, or strained. When he opens his mouth, I open mine until it's not simply our movements that harmonise, but the rate our hearts and depth of our breath.

Naturally, something was always going to break us apart, and that something is the sensation of Edward's tongue as it slides against mine. It shocks me back to realisation; it jolts me almost, and on impulse I sever from him and pull back.

He's staring at me, an almost shocked, raw expression encompassing his face. His lips are slightly parted, his breath pushing and pulling between them audibly before he breaks to moisten them. That's when they tug askew into that self-assured smirk of his, but I'm too flustered to properly react to him. And turning away I gaze vacantly at the giant screen before us as my pulse continues to flood my ears.

That's when I realise it. This movie we're watching? I have no idea what's happening.

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading :)  
* "Pissed" on its own in Australian terms means drunk. He and Rosalie were both drunk, not both angry. Sorry, sometimes I forget people outside our island don't get our terms.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I feel like I'm late. Am I late? Anywho, thank you to Kim for editing, even though I realised I sent her the wrong copy. I did keep, 97% of your edits, doll. Promise. I fail. Thanks also to StarryEyedWriter8 and Biebs. She knows who she is, bloody lurker.**  
**So, Vertigo got nominated for finished fics of the month, or something. I'm not sure if it was nominated or just because it's complete, but I seriously don't do those things. I'm unpopular by default and that's the way I like it. If you're friends with me on Facebook you'll know I repel cliques of all kinds. I don't kiss arse, and if anyone was to ever kiss mine I'd assume they had rabies. I'm sure I never had to deal with this stuff before a certain beta *cough* I'm looking at you, Kim *cough* decided to start pimping me. I was happy in my unpopular, under-the-radar bubble. Sheesh...  
Okay, I'll shut up now. **

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 6.**

"You know, staring at someone all starry-eyed is a sure sign you're in love with them," Edward says barely concealing the smirk on his lips as he helps me back into his massive truck after we leave the cinema.

I know exactly what he's referring to, and he's been deliberately delaying his reaction to _my reaction_ just to prolong his method of torture over me.

"I wasn't staring at you _starry-eyed_," I insist frustrated and probably too defensively that it only makes the width of Edward's grin grow. "I just didn't expect you to stick your tongue in my mouth."

"Why not?" he asks as he slides himself behind the wheel.

"What do you mean, _why not_?" I put to him. "Have you forgotten we're only pretending here?" Though, pretending or not, I'm still having a hard time making eye-contact with him, which is ridiculous.

He shrugs nonchalantly and turns the ignition. "Habit." Is what he offers up as an explanation. "You're not a bad kisser when you let go of all that virginity that's hanging over you."

I suck my breath in through my nose sharply, but reluctantly let it go. He's baiting me, and he's good at it. Plus, he already has me flustered, and no doubt my mother will be waiting for us to return with a glass to the wall. I can't lose my head—anymore than I already have, anyway.

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" I ask begrudgingly after stepping onto my front porch, my eyes fixed to the concrete beneath my feet. It's beyond the realm of ridiculous because this is Edward. I usually have no problem looking him dead in the eye and telling him to shoot himself.

Usually...

"Hmm...tomorrow's my day off," he replies, the amusement still heavily laced in his tone before he quite clearly laughs through his nose. He's noticed my behaviour as well, which only makes it infinitely worse.

I watch as he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his entire posture mocking me.

"Righto. Bye," I mumble and turn to open the front door when he grabs my hand.

"_Oi_, not so fast."

"What now?" I complain, and I'm fully aware that my hands are beginning to shake. I just don't want him knowing.

"First of all, do you think you could bloody look at me?!"

I do, reluctantly, but in a knee-jerk reaction, that I'm immediately grateful for, my embarrassment turns quickly to impatience. "What do you want?" I demand.

"Reckon you could repeat it? Or was it a one-off?" That cocky grin is nailed to his face along with something else in his expression. It might be curiosity but I still can't meet his eyes long enough to be sure.

"Repeat _what_?" I ask the tiles beneath me again.

"You know what I'm talking about," he says wryly.

I do, and he knows I do.

"No!" I look up and state plainly.

"I promise not to stick my tongue in your mouth again," he counteroffers as if that will somehow make a difference.

"_No_," I repeat, firmly this time, meeting his gaze for only a few seconds before I pull my eyes to the dozen or so insects circling the porch light.

"What are you doing standing here then if you're not waiting for me to kiss you?"

"I..." Flustered and feeling my face burn more conspicuously, I turn on my heel and reach for the door handle.

He grabs my free hand, and in one motion, he pulls me back to face him amd leans in to plant his lips to mine. It's only brief—three seconds tops—but it still leaves more than an obvious impression on me, because even during those few moments, I feel the energy he's evoking in me in every extremity.

"Later, snotface," he says, still clearly enjoying himself at my expense, before he flicks my forehead with his fingers and turns to step down off the porch.

I walk through the door as starry-eyed as I was after our whatever-the-hell-it-was kiss in the cinema and head to my bedroom. In doing so, I run into my mother; her face is lit up in anticipation.

"Well...?" Her voice is also reflecting it, and I fully suspect she wants me to give up details. And Adjectives.

"Well, _nothing_," I retort too sharply, allowing my frustration at Edward to continue to dictate my emotions. Though my emotions are so frayed at the moment, I'm not sure who my frustration is directed at. Him or me. "He's a complete shithead and I'm gonna break up with him!"

"Oh, sweetie..." she replies, waving her hand, completely dismissing me. "If you fight a lot, it just means you have great chemistry, and"—she lowers the tone of her voice—"a lot of sexual tension." A barely smothered squeal breaks from her throat and I want to die.

"Please stop," I beg her out of continued mortification, but I'm beginning to suspect my mother is onto something. I mean, what else could turn me into a stuttering wreck with the one male on the planet I could always be myself around? "We haven't had sex yet." I, for whatever reason, feel the need to fill her in.

"You haven't?" She sounds disappointed. "That's okay. I have some great articles on oral sex if you're not—"

"_Mum_!" I cut her off with a full-bodied cringe. "Jesus!"

"Would you like another B12?" she offers, placing her hand to my cheek and angling my face to inspect my eyes. I wonder what she's looking for. Evidence that I'm high? I'm sure my mother must think abstaining from Edward is proof of drug addiction. "You've been awfully uptight these last few days."

"I'm fine," I insist, opening my bedroom door and turning back to her. "_Really_."

"What happened? Do you want to talk?" she asks gently.

"Tomorrow," I mumble, reminding myself once again that while my mother is often unorthodox in her parenting style, her heart is always in the right place.

"Okay, sweetie." She appears placated, before again tilting my face to peer into my eyes. "You haven't been drinking, have you?"

Groaning just barely beneath my breath, I close my door on her; knowing nothing short of it will get rid of her.

**Dress rehearsal was a smashing success**, **babe**. Alice texts me a few minutes later as I'm washing the makeup from my face at my bathroom vanity. It's quickly followed by a second: **Sooooo many people asked me whether you were with Edward and Mike together. I told them it wasn't intentional with Edward, and you weren't sure how to tell Mike, so you let him break up with you instead. **Added this time is several laughing emojis.

**It was a complete disaster! Edward won't stop pushing me! **I reply aggressively, still caught up in an influx of emotions I'm not sure how to dissect.

**Why, what happened?**

**He tongue-kissed me! **I add one too many exclamation points.

**Is that all? **She replies along with a confused-face emoji.

**You're defending him?** I screech out in text form.

**That's just how you kiss though.**

**No, it isn't!**

**Well, if you close-mouth kiss, but who kisses like that?**

"_Me!"_ I almost reply with, which is pathetic. Something Alice wouldn't shy away in telling me either. **It wasn't closed-mouth, but he didn't have to stick his tongue into it. That's going too far.**

**They kind of just get in the way with open-mouthed kissing.** She adds a shrugging emoji this time and I'm close to giving up. **Remember, babe, you knew this was going to happen. Sure you can handle it? **She reminds me when I fail to reply.

**I can handle it. He's just such an arsehole about it all the bloody time. **

**He's shit stirring you. You let him get under your skin too easily. **

**I know. **I admit. I do.

**Edward's just more experienced. I'll remind him to slow his pace if you like. **She offers with what I'm sure she thinks will be helpful, but I almost pass out from horror.

**No! He'll never let me live it down!**

**Slow down? **Edward texts me exactly thirty seconds later, and just as I'm plunged into the throes of death.** It took my balls just to get you to kiss me! **

**ALICE! **I yell, my anxiety-pitched voice echoing off the tiles of my bathroom as my fingers type her name.

**Sorry, babe! He was hanging over my shoulder. I didn't know. **

"Jesus Christ..." I mutter, dropping my phone to the quartz counter top and burying my face in my hands as the groan amassing in my throat steadily becomes audible.

**Scratch that first theory, snotface. I've figured it out**. Edward texts me after I accepted a B12 vitamin from my mother and am settling myself beneath the covers of my bed.

**Do I even want to know?** I reply, but I do; if only to prevent more mortification on my end.

**You're shy around me now which means – in your own words – you're seeing me as a member of the opposite sex. Plus, you said I'm a spunk. It's proof you're in love with me. You can admit it. I won't mind. Then we can work on that virgin problem of yours. **I can practically hear that self-assured drawl of his oozing from each word he typed, but I'm not sure whether I want to laugh or throw my phone through the window.

**You are so up yourself. **I hastily text, before sending another.** I'm going to bed, so stop bothering me.**

**. . .**

"Sweetie?" My mother's voice invades the twilight of sleep still lingering over me. "Quick, he's mowing the lawn."

"What...?" I mumble incoherently just as she pulls my blanket completely off me.

"Edward—hurry!" Grabbing my hand she pulls me upright and proceeds to drag me down the hall, into the family room, and then onto the back patio.

I'm barely awake, even as the grinding sound of a lawn mower and the smell of freshly cut grass floods my senses.

"Over there...see?" She points him out as I squint into the glare of the early morning sunshine.

"What time is it?" I complain, though my eyes remain glued to the bare-chested form of Edward pushing the mower down the backyard away from us. He's wearing a baseball cap on backwards, a pair of workwear pants and boots, and nothing else. Even from where I'm standing, it's obvious his back is glistening with sweat while his muscles flex with each step he takes.

"It's eye candy o'clock..." My mother giggles, pulling a small pair of binoculars from the pocket of her robe and peering through them.

"_Mum_!" I protest, keeping my voice deliberately hushed. "That's my _boyfriend_!"

"_Oh_..." She nudges me. "No harm in looking."

"I...just can't..." I mumble dazed, sliding open the glass door and stepping back into the house.

Just in the nick of time, too, because as I'm shuffling in mortification back to my room, I hear Edward's voice call out, "Good morning, Mrs Swan."

"How are you, sweetheart?" my mother replies, putting on the same seductive voice she often uses on my father. "Would you like to come in for fifteen minutes for a cool drink?" she offers, as a horrified gasp bursts from me. "Bella's awake."

"Mum!" I holler in protest, immediately turning to drag my overeager mother back inside, but it's too late. Edward has already agreed.

He arrives five minutes later. He doesn't bother putting on a shirt, but he's removed his hat, as if that's some kind of consolation, and his semi-damp hair sticks plastered to his forehead.

"Come in, hon." My mother ushers him through the sliding glass doors. He had jumped the fence between our yards.

While my mother pours a can of Coke into a glass and grabs a couple of cubes of ice from the freezer, he glances over at me and smirks; his eyes clearly absorbing the morning sight of me.

I only scowl back at him and fold my arms stiffy across my chest, which naturally increases his obvious amusement.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Renee says, handing him the tall glass.

His eyes sever from mine and he takes it with thanks that actually makes my mother blush. Blush, and then covertly turn to me mouthing the word "wow".

I can only sigh and pray for death while hoping, naively, that Edward hasn't noticed. He's far too astute to be unaware though.

Renee pours me a glass of Coke as well along with another B12 vitamin.

"So," she claps her hands together, "what were you two fighting about last night—perhaps I can help?"

"Mum, _no_!" I insist forcefully, flashing Edward a very clear open-your-mouth-and-you-die warning.

"Edward?" she ignores me, turning her attention to him, and in turn, his canny smirk curves into a grin.

"I kissed her in the cinema," he decides to call my bluff.

"Is that all?" she asks me, her expression echoing Alice's sentiments from last night.

"He _tongue_-kissed me!" I blurt out defensively like a complete idiot.

"Oh..." my mother says, a smile twitching on the corner of her lips. "Well, Bella's very shy," she explains directly to Edward, and the arsehole almost chokes on his drink trying not to laugh.

"_Mum_!"

"Sweetie, are you worried because you're not confident you're doing it right, yet?" she puts to me, albeit delicately, while Edward snorts obnoxiously into his glass this time.

"Please stop..." I beg her as my face bursts into flames.

"Oh, honey. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She turns to face Edward again. "Bella's babysitting her brother tonight. Charlie and I will be gone from six to twelve, and Jake's bedtime is at seven, so if you'd like some..._alone time_ to work things out..." She clears her throat with a deliberate innuendo while I'm pretty sure I've descended into Hell.

"Please kill me," I mutter to the ceiling after allowing my head to flop back in frustration, and without another word, I trudge back to my bedroom.

"Bella, sweetie, it's _okay_!" my mother calls after me.

I get barely five minutes of reprieve from the continued torture when Edward opens my door and pokes his head into the room.

"Snotface."

"Get out!"

He smirks and proceeds to do the opposite. Pushing the door open, he sits himself beside me on my bed and drapes a sweaty arm around my shoulders. "Your mother told you to walk me out."

I shrug his arm from me irritably. "You won't get lost finding your way back home, now get out of my room."

"What are you bitching about? I've been in here a thousand times before," he reminds me, pausing to glance around regardless.

"My father's rules. No boyfriends in my room. Take it up with him."

"Was Newton allowed in your room?" He cocks a brow at me.

"_No_," I say, acting snotty. So snotty, he pulls back to gauge me, his forehead quirked.

"What's going on? You're suddenly really defensive around me," he asks, his grin slowly reforming across his face, because he's already well aware why.

"Why do you think?" I reply, petulantly.

He scoffs and squeezes his arm around me until my face suddenly plants against his sweaty chest.

"Eww!" I burst, shoving him off me.

He rolls his eyes, and grabbing my hand he pulls the both of us to our feet. "Stop whinging and walk me out. See ya, Mrs Swan," he calls out to my mother as we pass the entrance to the lounge room.

"Bye, sweetheart," she replies, using that same voice again.

"You're mother digs me," he says after releasing my hand on our driveway, his grin surfacing again.

"My father doesn't. I take after him," I grumble, and he scoffs back another urge to laugh.

"You were finally relaxed yesterday," he points out after a moment of scrutinising me before shoving both hands in his pockets, "and now you're back to being all virgin."

"Maybe because you insist on using the word _virgin_ every two bloody minutes."

He shrugs a shoulder, his hands remaining pushed deep into his pants. "You're acting virgin."

"I _am_ a virgin!" I feel the need to point out again, as some kind of misguided defence.

"I can fix that for you," he teases me, and I immediately shove him.

"Stop acting like a bloody child!"

"Stop acting like a bitch!" he retorts and his voice this time tightens.

I glance up at him in surprise. He looks suddenly irritated. "I'm not..." I say weakly.

"You _are_. I helped you rub it in that arsehole Newton's face last night and here you are acting like a stroppy little kid again. What the hell's wrong with you?"

I open my mouth but I have no reply, at least for the moment. "It's...too confusing," I admit without fully meaning to.

"What is? Me?" He appears confused.

"Yes, and _me_. I've known you all my life, and now...I...I don't know..." I abandon it with a heavy sigh and drop my chin to my chest.

He's quiet for a moment while my eyes fuse to the concrete of the driveway. "This was all your idea, don't forget."

"It was Alice's idea," I correct him in a mumble.

"You didn't say _no_."

"Either did you," I look back up at him, and in response he smiles almost warmly.

"I'm not the one who needs a date anywhere."

"I'm beginning to think going dateless isn't such a bad idea after all."

His eyes train on mine for an awkward pause before he snorts. "Suit yourself." Then smacking his palm to my forehead, he shoves me backwards. "Little kid."

"Fuck you," I snap. "_Big kid_."

"Virgin," he replies with his back to me as he makes his way toward his front yard.

"_Arsehole_!" I retort for want of a better insult.

"Daddy's little girl," he adds, his voice fading as he walks further away.

"Mummy's little boy!" I shout back without thinking just as the words die on my lips.

He almost stumbles mid stride before turning back to me, and there's a shocked kind of pain suddenly reflecting on his face.

"E-Edward..." I stammer, immediately flooding with regret, "I'm so—"

"You better block me, snotface, 'cause I'm gonna out this entire bullshit," he threatens me, his entire expression darkening, before whipping back around and continuing toward his house.

With my heart suddenly lodged in my throat choking me, I turn and race back inside.

**I'm so sorry, Edward. I wasn't thinking. It was so insensitive of me. I'm really sorry! **I hastily type out after snatching up my phone, but he doesn't reply.

While I'm waiting, and silently praying, my phone beeps with a Facebook notification as the bubbled message pops up on my screen: "Edward Cullen has posted on your wall."

My hearts stalls for a moment, and with shaking fingers, I click it open. There it is, just as he threatened, all in capitals and ending in multiple exclamation points.

**IT WAS ALL A LIE. AS IF I COULD GO OUT WITH THE UGLY, BUCKED-TOOTHED KID FROM NEXT DOOR!**

My heart drops all the way down to my toes, and in complete defeat, I slump to my bed, drop my head into my outstretched hand and let my phone fall to the carpeted floor.

The irony, I pushed away two guys in a week because I'm an inexperienced little kid. Just as Edward accused me of being.

* * *

**A/N: Uh-oh... Btw, yes you are meant to be frustrated by Bella. Even Edward. It's okay to tell me you are without sending me apologetic PMs for your reviews. I won't boil your kid's bunny in a crock pot, or anything. Promise.  
Oh, and one more thing, I forget to add that if you review, I'll give you a spoiler for next week's chapter :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, I just found out my son got a high school ****placement ****(high school in Sydney is 7th - 12th grade) in an Autism Unit at an awesome new school. I am so deliriously happy and relieved that I thought I'd be really generous and update super early. I did finish another chapter, as well.  
Geez, people, talk about a fray of emotions from last chapter. Some of you were pissed - you were meant to be - but sheesh some of you tore me a new one. Fun fact: I am not one of those authors who will chuck a hissy and rally my minions (I don't have any) if I get a review that is anything less than glowing praise. So, really, don't feel you can't express your opinions openly. You can. I actually admire people who'll let me know their thoughts while signed in. I will only be "clever" if you troll me for the sake of it, like my special little stan *waves*. ****Just going to add, Bella is not feeling victimised by Edward. She knows he's a shit who likes to take the piss. If it bothered her that much she wouldn't agree to any of it. As for angst. Okay since it's me, I'm going to say it's 98% angst-free. ****Am I even coherent right now? I'm pretty hyper. Anyway, it's all subjective, you don't have to like it, and I'm cool.  
****BTW, Kim (my beta) is so going to hate me. Sorry, doll! I'm just so happy! Also, happy birthday to StarryEyedWriter8.****  
****I'm gonna shut up now. **

**18+ content ahead. Still falls under the M rating, so all good.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 7.**

It's all over.

I can't go to the farewell now. It's out of the question. Edward has completely humiliated me, and Jessica will never let me live it down. Both her and Mike will spend the entire night making sure everyone knows about it while laughing at me behind my back.

Who am I kidding? No doubt everyone already knows. By now it would have been screen-shotted and passed through every person in the year three times over.

Okay, what I said to Edward was incredibly insensitive, but it wasn't deliberate. He didn't have to resort to this. I don't deserve it.

But then maybe I do...

Alice texts just before midday.

**Hey, babe, want to go for lunch with me and Jas? Edward's in. **

**What? **I reply, filling with sudden confusion. **Didn't you see what Edward tagged me in? He outed me. **

I thought about removing the tag but there was no point. Edward's mutual friends with enough people that it still would have spread like wildfire.

**Huh?**

**He tagged me on Facebook telling everyone it's all a lie.**

**Where? I don't see anything. **Alice replies a few minutes later; I suspect she was checking herself.

**Maybe he removed it… **I speculate. Not that it matters anymore.

**I didn't see anything. When did he post this?**

**This morning.**

**Did you have a fight?**

**Yeah.**

**So he outed you?**

**Yeah.**

**Oh geez. Hang on. I'm going to ask him. **

She calls back only moments later sounding frustrated and impatient. "He says he deleted it immediately after posting."

"He wasn't quick enough. I still saw it, and if I saw it, then other people must have as well..." I mumble.

"He tagged you in it, though, so you would have got the notification. God he's an arse," she snaps.

"Yeah, I don't know," I mutter.

"Seriously, he does stupid shit without thinking. Bloody child!"

"So do I..."

"You're defending him?" she puts to me dubiously. "What were you doing up so early? He mows at the crack of dawn!"

"My mother dragged me out of bed." I don't tell her why.

"What did you fight about?" She sighs heavily over the receiver.

"He called me a daddy's little girl, so I called him a mummy's little boy without thinking."

"Oh...Bells," she releases a second drawn out breath, "surely he knew you didn't mean it."

"I've been acting really...self-conscious, and I'm taking it out on him. He's getting annoyed at me. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and he won't stop tormenting me!" I'm frustrated but not at the shithead next door. It's not as if I don't know what he's like. I've known for eighteen years.

"He just needs to be a bit more empathetic—you're an arsehole, Edward!" she breaks off to shout at him.

He mumbles something back, but I can't make it out. His voice sounds like its back to its usual smartarse pitch, though.

"Everyone would have seen it by now, Alice. There's no point!"

"I didn't see anything, and I haven't heard anything, either. That early on a Saturday? You two would have been the only ones awake," she reasons and her confidence allows me to hope.

"I don't know..." The idea of one person knowing churns my stomach, but with social media it's never just one person.

"Want me to hunt around and see if anyone knows anything?" she offers.

"Yeah...I don't know. I guess..."

She sighs again, over dramatizing it this time. "Okay, give me half an hour."

**Hey, sorry, snotface. I'm a prick. I admit it.** Edward messages me almost the second Alice hangs up.

**You are!**

**Come and have a joint with me in the tree-house.**

**What? My father will kill me. **I reply.

**So we both die. Just get your small tits over here and let me make it up to you.**

**Fine! Give me 5. **

I'm still wearing my nightie. I tear it off, hastily fumble to strap on my bra before pulling on a pair of denim shorts and a singlet top. I'm not going anywhere without brushing my teeth, and when I finally leave the house to head next door, closer to ten minutes have passed.

That's when I hear it, the sound of Mr Cullen's loud, belligerent voice. He's yelling at Edward, and I arrive just in time to see him shove Edward up against the door of the garage and slap his face.

I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth on impulse as I quickly duck back behind the shadows of my parents' house. I continue to watch, though, ashamedly, while my heart absolutely aches. Edward is completely submissive. He only stands, his head bowed, as his father continues to shove and yank at him.

"_Answer me_!" Mr Cullen repeatedly demands, but Edward remains silent. His father obviously treats his silence as a retaliation, though, because when he replies it's with the back of his band.

Edward's head is knocked sideways, but in silence, he straightens back up, shoves both fists in the pockets of his jeans and looks up to meet his father's gaze. He's bleeding and there is something defiant in his eyes; even from twenty feet away it's obvious, but still he doesn't speak a word.

"I'm getting sick and tired of your shit!" his father snaps, turning and heading down the driveway to his car that's parked by the side of the road.

At the same time, Edward pushes off the garage door and makes his way to the side of the house toward the rear yard; I race back inside.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" My mother asks after I slam the front door behind me in my rush; she heard too.

"Where are the Band-Aids?" I blurt without stopping as I make my way into the kitchen.

"Hang on," she says softly, the alarm in her eyes calming before she disappears behind her bedroom door. She emerges again a few moments later with several strips in her hands. "Go and take care of him."

I nod and break into a small smile, but my heart is hammering and I'm unsure of what emotion I'm feeling much less portraying.

**Are you okay? **I text Edward before I leave. I'm not sure if he'll even want me around him right now, and I'm not about to assume.

**Are you coming or what?** He immediately replies, and even by text it's obvious he's very off.

I find him leaning up against the gum tree at the very rear of the property. His head's lowered, his foot propped and resting against the trunk, while both hands are still deep in the pockets of his jeans. His entire posture is screaming in pain, though, and I immediately pause.

He spots me before I can make my presence known, and the moment his eyes meet mine I realise he's crying.

"Are you okay?" I whisper as one arm subconsciously reaches out to him.

"I'm fine," he answers quietly, inhaling sharply and removing a hand from his jeans to wipe his eyes clumsily. In doing so he smudges the blood that's still trickling from the cut below his left eyebrow. "After you." He motions to the rungs nailed into the truck leading to the timber tree house he built with his father when he was young.

Without a word I scale the seven steps and pull myself inside. It's been years since I've been up here, but everything looks and smells exactly the same. For a moment I stare up at the crude painting Alice decorated on the west-facing wall when we were kids. Me, her and Edward all holding hands and smiling; our names written above each stick figure.

It was in here where I spent most of my summers; where I consoled Alice for hours after her mother died; and where I had my first kiss. With Edward of course. He was ten and I was eight.

Edward and Alice... My entire childhood is filled with memories of them; in fact, I don't have a single memory that doesn't include one of them.

In silence Edward sits beside me, but his silence, his pain, is palpable.

"Hey..." I murmur, and without another word I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him to me.

It takes him a few moments to respond before he—almost hesitantly—encircles his arms around my waist and drops his face to my shoulder.

For the longest time we sit like this, without words, while Edward's shuddering breath washes over me as he attempts to pull himself together. I don't let him go, I can't, and for the first time in too many years I realise that I feel just as protective of him as I always have of Alice.

"What was he angry about this time?" I eventually break the silence softly against his ear.

He half laughs bitterly. "Me. Just the sight of me pisses him off."

I squeeze him tighter to me, and he does the same before he inevitably pulls back.

"Fuck him..." he mutters, wiping his eyes in frustration this time.

"Come here for a sec..." Opening one of the Band-Aids I'm still clutching in my hand, I peel off the straps and smooth it carefully over his cut skin. "There," I say, when I'm done, meeting Edward's gaze; this is when I realise he's staring at me. "What...?"

"Bella...?" His voice is rustic, his eyes serious, and he moves closer to me, only slightly as if he's about to kiss me but immediately hesitates. "We'll just say someone hacked me."

"...What?" I utter vacantly, my eyes zeroing in on his lips before I quickly pull them back to his gaze.

"About the post. If anyone's read it we'll say someone hacked me."

"Oh..." I mumble. "Yeah...okay..."

"Shit, I'm sorry. Sometimes I do stupid, impulsive shit," he says, sounding frustrated at himself.

"No...I deserved it," I reply, and I'm back to struggling to make eye contact with him.

"You deserved it?" he echoes dubiously. "Seriously, snotface, is that what you think?"

"We're back to snotface," I say wryly, breaking into a small smile while his turns broad.

"You'll always be snotface to me," he teases me, clamping my nose between his second and third fingers.

I shove him back and for a moment we laugh together like we once did. When we were as close as I was with Alice; before he became just her annoying older brother. It's a single moment in time that's broken way too soon, before Edward's pulling out his secret stash of cannabis from a loose floorboard in the treehouse.

"My father will shoot you, just so you know," I fill him in lightly as he sprinkles the plant delicately within the small filtered paper and rolls it.

He grins to himself, his breath shooting quickly from his nose, but continues preparing the joint in a way that suggests he's been doing it for a while.

"Ladies first," he says, handing me the finished result.

I take it from him, bringing it to my nose and inhaling in its musky spice as he begins on the second one. When he's done, he pulls out a lighter, and placing the rolled herb between my lips, he lights it.

I take one breath in and immediately erupt into a fit of coughing. Edward, of course, laughs.

"Relax your throat when you inhale. You're tensing," he instructs me, patting my back as I lean forward in an attempt to catch my breath. "Try again." He hands me a bottle of water.

My second attempt isn't much better, but by the fifth and sixth round I start to get the hang of it without asphyxiating.

"Bloody hell," I say, clearing the remaining restriction from my throat, and just as I'm beginning to feel the effects of the cannabis filter through me.

Edward smiles to himself, before fixing his attention on his own.

I watch as he lights it and draws it back with ease; holding it in his lungs for a few moments before exhaling it through his nose.

Stretching out his legs, he eases his back against the wall of the tree house and takes another deep pull. This time when he exhales it's accompanied by a long, languid groan. "God..." he utters softly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as a drunken smile tugs on his lips. "This shit is better than sex."

"That's actually pretty concerning," I say lightly, leaning against the wall beside him.

He turns to glance at me, his smile becoming toothy, before opening his arm and offering it to me. I take it, and rest my head against his chest, listening to the whoosh of his lungs as he continues to draw the smoke in. "I told you I can help you out there," he teases me against my ear.

I nudge him playfully. "You said I'd never want to see them again—the person I lost it to," I remind him. "I can't not see you again."

"You're getting attached to me, aren't you?" he says, chuckling beneath his breath as he exhales.

"I've known you all my life. Of course I'm attached to you," I reply, taking a quick puff and coughing lightly against the smoke in my throat.

"We'll have to make sure it's not a disaster then," he muses, tensing in anticipation for the elbow I force into his ribs.

"Shut up. It's not going to happen."

He laughs again before it turns into a husky moan as another billow of smoke releases lazily from his nostrils.

"Hey," he pipes up a moment later, tugging a strand of my hair with the same hand he has curved around my neck, "I'm really am sorry about that post. I can be a real prick sometimes."

"It's all right," I say with a sigh, becoming distracted. "But..."

"But...?"

"You don't really think I'm ugly and bucked-tooth, do you?"

He groans again but this time in a completely different context. "Bella, ninety-nine percent of everything I say in anger is bullshit. You're beautiful, you know you're beautiful, so knock that shit off."

I pause for a moment, not sure I heard him correctly as a secretive smile pulls on my lips. "I must have done something right for Edward Cullen to call me beautiful."

"You know me, I say it the way it is." He shrugs, bringing the joint to his lips again.

"No, you don't. You torment me relentlessly," I counter, running my fingers down the cotton material of his shirt and over his ribs.

He jolts and grabs my hand. "Stop that." Then drawing in the last of the cannabis into his lungs, he leans forward—taking me with him—and stubs out the butt with his shoe. "You done?" he asks, turning to me after he settles us both back against the wall.

"Yeah," I say, handing it to him.

He sits himself upright this time, stubbing it out before reaching for the esky in the corner of the space. Pulling the lid off, he grabs a large bag of Doritos from within and tears it open. Then after taking a handful and shoving them in his mouth he offers the bag to me. I take several as Edward once more leans us back.

"Why aren't we laughing?" I ask after swallowing and plunging my hand in the packet for more.

"It was Indica. I don't smoke to get high, but to mellow. You feeling chill?"

"Hmm...pretty chill. I think I'll just stay here all night..."

He laughs again half beneath his breath, while the rocking motion of it causes a wave of fatigue to wash over me. It's me who moans this time before crunching on the corn chips in my hand.

"So, what's going on, Bella?" he asks after a moment, dropping his lips to the top of my head.

"Hmm...HSC, you and Alice. Not much else..." I close my eyes and focus on the steady beat of his heart.

"I meant, why are you so on edge around me? Last night you were okay, and this morning you were back to treating me like I was going to roofie you."

"You _did_ roofie me—just now," I reply, laughing lightly to myself.

"You know what I mean," he says with a quite breath.

I sigh inevitably and half sit up so I can face him. I'm feeling so relaxed all of a sudden I'm no longer shy about looking him in the eye. "It's cause...you're right about me..."

A brazen smirk immediately pulls askew on his face. "Of course I am."

I immediately whack him as that familiar frustration builds in my chest again. "I'm serious. I have no idea what I'm doing, and you do, and you keep making me conscious of it."

"Bella, you are aware that I'm no gigolo, right?" He reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear as his smile turns warm, and maybe a little teasing. "I was only a year younger than you when I lost my virginity."

"You were?" I'm pretty surprised. Okay, maybe a little gobsmacked.

He shrugs. "Yeah. Half-way through Year 11. I was probably the last out of my group."

"...But..."

"_But_...?"

"You're..._you_."

He scoffs. "I might be _me_, but I still have standards. I wasn't just going to stick my dick in anything."

"Even girls whose last name you don't know?" I raise a contradictory brow.

"Yeah, but she was hot," he says, and I roll me eyes.

"You said you never wanted to see her again, though."

"I don't." He shrugs his shoulder. "I completely missed and then came all over her."

"Um—that was more than I needed to know!" I blurt, repulsed but oddly curious at the same time. "But...what do you mean by _missed_?"

He breaks into a small grin completely at my expense again. "Think about it."

I open my mouth to reply even as my mind drifts with multiple scenarios. "Oh..."

"You think it's like magnets and they just come magically together?"

"I have no idea," I mutter, "but it doesn't sound like it'd be much fun..." Despite Alice's tales.

"It's fun," he contradicts me, his smile resurfacing again.

"For guys, maybe. No chance of you getting knocked up."

"I haven't knocked up anyone yet."

"_Yet_."

"You have heard of birth control, right?"

"Of course I have." I huff, because he's all but laughing at me again. "But nothing's full proof."

"Being a virgin is."

"Exactly," I emphasise my point.

"Is that what you're scared of?" He tilts his head in contemplation. "Getting knocked up?"

"I witnessed my mother give birth. I'm traumatised for life." She had a home birth, in an inflatable pool in the living room. My brother was ten pounds. I still have nightmares.

"Yeah, we heard her screaming from over here." He chuckles before leaning toward me. "I promise I won't knock you up," he whispers in my ear.

"Would you give it up?—we're not having sex!"

"Hmm...you say that now..."

I shush him, and relaxing against him I grab another handful of chips.

"It's not just 'cause you're self-conscious," he pipes up after a moment, while I glance at him blankly.

"Huh?"

"You were okay last night until I kissed you," he points out. "Then you got all shy and hostile."

I pause for a moment to recall it before groaning softly to myself. "Because it's..._you_. I never expected to ever kiss you the way we're pretending to. It's messing with my head."

"You worried you're going to fall in love with me?" he says lightly.

I only huff with impatience and elbow him again; he's anticipating me this time.

"I'm kidding." He chuckles.

"Do you want me to fall in love with you?" I meant it to be some kind of threat but of course it came out all wrong.

"Hm...it'd be interesting," he says simply.

"What if you fall in love with me?" I arch a brow and he snorts.

"No chance."

"You're an arsehole."

He laughs, and I'm suddenly finding it hard to hold off my own.

"So, you don't want to kiss me anymore, is that it?" he asks after a moment, his voice dropping almost seriously.

"No...I... Well, it's a part of the plan isn't it," I decide to go with.

"It is. I think you just have to get used to it."

"Probably..." I mumble, feeling my cheeks flush and my heart skip at the mere idea of it.

"Wanna practice?" he puts to me casually.

I release my breath heavily and shrug in resignation. "Sure."

"_Alrighty_," he jokes, pulling us both upright again before attempting to wrangle something out of the front picket of his jeans.

"What..." I begin before I realise it's a breath freshener.

"Open," he instructs me, pumping two squirts of the mint flavoured spray in my mouth when I do. Then after using it on himself, he places it to the side, beside the near empty bag of Doritos, and turns back to me. "You ready?"

"I'm ready," I answer, smiling wryly to myself while my insides suddenly squirm.

He leans toward me when I reach out and clamp my hand to his mouth. "And for the record, I do know how to kiss. It's just because I'm kissing _you_ that's throwing me off."

"If you say so," he mocks me, and just like that Alice's annoying older brother is back.

"Shut up!" I protest.

"_You_ shut up—and open your mouth."

"Don't shove your tongue in!" I warn him.

"Why not?"

"Because it's gross!"

"You are such a virgin..." He smirks.

"I'll make a deal with you," I suddenly propose, pulling slightly back from him.

"What deal?" he asks cynically.

"If you can make it to the formal without saying either snotface or virgin, I'll let you_...take care of it_..."

His eyes immediately widen in obvious surprise, before as if snapping himself out of it, he appears to dismiss me. "Bullshit, and that's completely cock-teasing, by the way."

"Don't call me that!" I snap a little too passionately.

"...Don't call you what?"

"A cock tease. That's what that arsehole Mike Newton said before he dumped me."

"He called you a cock tease?" he demands as his face steadily darkens.

"And a frigid bitch," I say bitterly.

"I'm gonna beat the shit out of him," he promises, his voice dropping lowly.

"You are not."

"You'd better make sure he doesn't find himself in the same room as me then." I suddenly realise he's serious. Totally serious.

"You'd fight for my honour, would you?" I tease him.

"Of course I would." He glances up and catches my gaze again, his eyes narrowing. "I'm shoving in the tongue now, too."

"_Why_?"

"Because you made a promise you can't keep."

"Who says I can't keep it?" I challenge him, and in return he quirks a completely unconvinced brow.

"You would honestly give your virginity to me if I stop calling you two names?"

"I don't think you can, and if you do, then..." I shrug, "I probably should get it out of the way with someone who'll look after me."

"All right then..." he accepts my terms as a broad smile pulls slowly across his face. "You're on."

"Fine," I say simply just as a fire is lit in my belly. The formal is a week away today. Seven days.

"What do I get if you renege?" he questions.

"I'm not going to renege."

"Still, I need a guarantee."

I huff and consider it for a moment, but come up empty. "What do you want?"

He appears to contemplate it for a moment before he inevitably smirks again. "Six more months as your boyfriend."

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**A/N: Thank you all for reading, and reviews get a spoiler :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I managed to finish another chapter despite my crappy hayfever right now. Stranger things have happened...**  
**Happy birthday to Sammy Hale, and thanks to Kimmie45 for the edits, and StarryEyedWriter8 and Biebs for prereading. **  
**Kim left a note at bottom. I apparently confuse her with my way of describing things lol.  
**

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**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 8.**

"You promised to do WHAT?" Alice screeches in disbelief while looking at me like I've just sprouted a second head. "Bella..."

"Alice, he's been calling me_ snotface_ for ten years straight. You think he'll be able to suddenly stop? He'll blurt it out without even realising." I'm not too concerned. Okay, maybe I am a little bit.

"Oh, dear, sweet, naive Bells. This is Edward we're talking about. He'll take a vow of silence to make sure of it."

I chuckle. "No...Besides, he's not allowed to. The plan is still on, so he has to talk to me."

"Would you really go through with it?" she asks, her expression softening as if she's suddenly concerned for me.

"If I don't, I'm stuck with him for another six months," I explain Edward's back-up plan.

"_What_?" She's confused and slightly repulsed.

"If I back out of it, I promised we'd pretend to be together for a further six months."

"_Pretend_...?" She's not convinced. "How the hell did you even come up with this idea—it wasn't out of guilt from what you said to him, was it?"

"No," I insist.

"Were you high?"

"...Well...we were _mellow_."

"So that bastard took advantage of you?" Her eyes widen and a crazed look is suddenly reflected in them.

"It was my idea."

"_Why_?"

I open my mouth to answer, when I pause. Why did I? I'm not one-hundred-percent sure myself. "I don't know..."

"But, Bells, it'd be like...having sex with your brother—ugh!"

"Technically, he's your brother, not mine."

She scrutinises me for a few moments while her expression furrows. "Is this because that prick Mike Newton made you self-conscious."

I shrug a shoulder indifferently. "Partially, but it's sitting constantly over me, and I'm tired of it. I just want it gone, already."

"Bells..." her voice softens again, "that's not a good enough reason to sleep with someone. You'll regret it."

"I won't," I reassure her.

"_Bella_," her tone becomes firm now and much too parental, "there are a lot of girls in this world who can't just detach and have casual sex. You're one of them. Jesus, you can't even kiss him without getting neurotic!"

"I'll be fine," I say, smiling slightly to myself. I kissed him in the treehouse without a single neurotic episode, and despite him completely groping me.

"You'll end up in love with him—because look at him, he's not ugly—and he'll hurt you." She's beginning to sound desperate, as if I'm proposing something else entirely.

"Alice," I sigh in slight frustration, "you're seriously jumping the gun here. Let's just see if he can even stick to it first."

"Oh, he'll stick to it," she replies too confidently. "He has a will of iron."

I scoff, but I'd be lying if I said her certainty isn't concerning me. "Anyway, I'm babysitting tonight. Come and keep me company?"

"Hell no. Dad's gone for the night and Edward's going partying. Jas is coming over soon." She winks.

"Edward's going partying...?" I echo, and I'm not sure why that bothers me.

"Yeah, he goes every weekend." She shrugs, bending forward to retrieve her phone and clicking it open.

She's quiet for several minutes as she types away in a message on Facebook, while I take a moment to contemplate her words.

"You really think he can make it a week?" I mumble, my faith in Edward's inability _not_ to taunt me dwindling with each word I speak.

"My advice?" Alice replies, her eyes meeting mine over her phone. "Get on the pill."

At that moment, her bedroom door bursts open and Edward leans in from the frame. "Get in here, sno—" he abruptly pulls himself up as his expression smooths out shock from his _almost_ gaffe.

I only smirk to myself and arch an eyebrow in emphasis at Alice. "Vow of silence...?"

"My money's still on him," Alice replies her confidence not wilting.

"I didn't say it. It doesn't count," Edward insists.

"You almost did," I point out, pulling myself off Alice's bed to my feet regardless.

He grabs my elbow and tugs me toward his bedroom.

"Get him drunk, Bella. It's your only hope," Alice calls out after me while Edward snorts.

"Just so you know, if you text it to me, it still counts," I warn him after he closes his bedroom door behind us.

"You just worry about yourself," he replies, his grin returning. It seems to be a permanent fixture when he's around me, and it's not a compliment.

"What do you want?" I put to him folding my arms across my chest. "I have to leave soon. I'm watching Jake tonight."

"Ah shit, that's right," he reminds himself, running his hand through his hair. "I was going to ask you to come with me."

"Come with you _where_...?" I ask, as my back immediately straightens.

"Just...some party," he replies glancing up at me, his hand wrapped around the nape of his neck. "Never mind, I'll come and hang with you."

"You don't have to," I assure him.

"Your mother invited me." His smirk twitches into effect again.

"What?"

"She also gave me the house key."

"Please tell me you're kidding?" I feel faint.

"Nope." His lips are pulled into a full grin now, and it's wholly at my expense.

"_No_..."

"Yep." He produces the brass evidence from his front pocket and holds it out to me.

"Oh my god..." I mumble, as my head falls back in exasperation.

"She told me I can come around any time of the day...or _night_." He winks.

"If I ever wake up and find you in my bed, I'll kill you," I threaten him, and I'm not even remotely joking.

He laughs and hooks his elbow around my neck. "Anyway, sno—shit!"

"You are so screwed." I laugh lightly, shrugging his arm from me.

"I'm going to get on top of it," he mutters, sounding as if he's speaking it to himself.

"So, what happens if I win?" I propose.

"You won't win." He's adamant.

I roll my eyes at his confidence. "For argument's sake."

He scrutinises me closely, his forehead creasing suspiciously. "What do you want?"

I contemplate it for a moment, but shrug. "Let me think about it."

He smirks again and clears his throat. "Anyway, your old lady said to come around seven. That okay with you?"

"I suppose," I say with a sigh.

"Well, I'll see you then, _Bel-la_." He leans toward me quirking that brow at me again. Shaking my head to myself, I nudge him.

"Okay..." I move to leave his room when he grabs my elbow.

"Hey?"

"What?" I ask, turning back to him.

"I really am sorry about grabbing your..." He leaves it unspoken even as his eyes zero in on my chest.

Yes, he grabbed a handful in the treehouse, and on impulse I almost pushed him out. We were kissing, and it was getting pretty heated. At first, I was just satisfied that I could actually kiss him without falling to pieces, until I found myself getting lost in his mouth while completely losing my head. That is until he took a handful of my left breast and I practically jumped three feet in the air.

"No, you're not," I reply wryly.

He immediately breaks into a broad grin and almost laughs. "You're right, I'm not, but..."

"Habit?" I finish for him, raising my brows high. That seems to be his excuse for everything.

Shoving his hands in the front pockets of his pants, he shrugs. "Pretty much."

I sigh, but I don't take him seriously. He's proven multiple times that he's barely capable of even being serious. "See you at seven."

He arrives not a minute later, and after opening the door, I drag him inside with my finger to my lips.

"He asleep already?" he asks, his voice deliberately hushed as he follows me into the family room.

"Yeah. He's a good sleeper like Dad." Plus he's a hellion while awake. It's the reason my mother established such a strict bedtime with him very early on. "Want to watch a movie?" I ask him over my shoulder, and when my eyes meet his, he smirks.

"I can think of a few better things to do..." His expression turns suggestive and I roll my eyes.

"Is that all you think about?"

"Not always. What have you got to eat?" He makes a beeline for the pantry.

"I don't know. Grab what you want," I offer, continuing into the family room and dropping down in the centre of the corner lounge.

He joins me a moment later, flopping next to me with a bag of caramel popcorn while I scroll through Netflix.

"Anything you want to watch?" I mumble as he drapes an arm around my shoulders and offers me the opened bag. I take a handful and munch on them as I continue to browse the menu.

"I don't care," he replies after swallowing. "So...you're not on the pill?"

"_What_...?" I say blankly, turning to stare at him and scoffing. "How do you manage to say the most random stuff that always seems to skirt around my non-existent sex life?"

"I heard midget tell you to go on the pill," he explains with a shrug.

"Yeah, she thinks you're going to win," I say dryly, watching as his smirk grows broad.

"I _am_ going to win." I elbow him in the ribs and he laughs. "Seriously, though, I thought you'd already be on it."

With a sigh, I turn my gaze back to the television screen. "And why would you think that?"

"Uh...cause you were going out with that dickhead for how many months?"

"Nine, and so...?"

"You're eighteen," he points out the obvious. "After nine months, most people don't tend to still be virgins."

"I..." I scramble for words but I don't have any. Shrugging irritably, I let it go.

"Unless you never planned on having sex with him." he deliberately alludes, and I decide to be truthful.

"I thought I did, but the more he pushed me, the more uncertain I became. I'm glad I didn't now," I murmur. Five days after breaking up with Mike and already the idea of having sex with him makes my skin crawl.

"I'm glad you didn't, too," he adds a little too casually that I turn to gauge him again.

"Why do you care?" I ask genuinely curious.

"Because," he jerks a shoulder, "he's a wanker."

"Yeah," I laugh humourlessly, "I agree with you there."

"He giving you shit at school?"

"No, not really. He just scowls at me from the other side of the hall." I chuckle to myself as I recall it.

"If he does, let me know. I'll snap his neck in half." His expression momentarily darkens.

I gaze at him, smiling slightly to myself. "I'm beginning to think you want him to give me shit just so you'll have an excuse to beat him up."

He breaks into a grin that all but validates it. "You finished your exams?"

"Almost. Monday I have History, and Tuesday, it's Chemistry. _Then_ I'm finished."

"I have an RDO Monday. What time does your exam finish?"

"Eleven."

"I'll come and pick you up."

"Okay," I agree simply.

"You weren't in love with him, were you?" he puts the question to me after a small lapse in silence as I continued flicking through Netflix movies.

I almost laugh. "God, no."

"So...what did you see in him?"

I turn to face him again; he appears unusually curious. I shrug partially in answer. "I don't know. I had a crush on him, I guess..."

"See that shit right there I really don't understand," he says, and he almost sounds annoyed.

"Huh?" I utter vacantly, unsure of his meaning.

"You live next door to me and you get a crush on that weeny little fucker?"

I can only scoff at his brazen vanity. "You are so up yourself."

"Seriously, shit like that will make me question my own sex appeal. In eighteen years you've never had a crush on me."

I roll my eyes. "I did have a crush on you, remember? I said I was going to marry you."

He gazes at me steadily for a moment before the corners of his lips twitch giving him away. "You were an infant. It doesn't count."

"Is that the reason you want to beat him up?" I ask, eyeing him closely and fighting the urge to grin myself.

He immediately scoffs to himself. "Get real."

"Hmm...I don't know. I think you're jealous," I tease him.

"Kiss me and I'll show you how jealous I am," he counters, pulling me against him and leaning toward me.

"No," I insist, planting my palm to his face and pushing him back.

"Why not?"

"I kissed you in the treehouse and you felt me up!" I remind him.

Smirking, he says, "I told you. Habit."

"Habit my arse. I'm beginning to suspect you only agreed to this whole thing to satisfy some perverse curiosity."

"Partially," he agrees, his grin subtly turning inward.

I whack him. "I can kiss you without kneeing you in the balls now, so we don't need to."

"Yeah, no... You're still pretty obvious. You should be able to tolerate your boyfriend grabbing your tits."

"I did _not_ sign up to get groped!" Though I'm not really angry.

His eyebrows pull high on his forehead. "You think _that's_ groping?"

"Just—no!" I insist, and I'm adamant. It's best I don't kiss Edward when there's absolutely no one around. I'm afraid I'll start projecting things into it that aren't there.

He releases me before leaning back to stare at me as if I confuse him. "If you can't kiss me when we're alone, there's no way you'll be able to lose your virginity with me."

"Who says that will even happen?" He only cocks an overconfident eyebrow and I huff. "It's only been a couple of hours and you've already slipped twice."

He breaks into a small smile, it pushes through his nose audibly before he severs my gaze. "I'm not going to hold you to it, Bella."

"What...?" I'm beginning to think this guy has multiple personality disorder.

"Despite what you like to call me, I'm not an arsehole. No one should have to have sex because they lost a bet. Especially for your first time."

I only stare at him while my mouth falls open. "Will I ever work you out?" I utter, shaking my head to myself with the barest movement.

He smiles again and he's almost charming; almost. "Considering we were both high, I can't really make you go through with it." He dongs my knee playfully.

"Hm..." I glance down briefly, grabbing his hand with mine, "but what if I want to go through with it?"

He frowns, but it appears more out of confusion than anything else. "...Do you?"

I shrug again. "Yeah, I mean, I kind of want to just get it over and done with."

He takes a very deliberate breath. "Bella...if that was the only reason why, you would have had sex with Newton."

I open my mouth to reply, but immediately close it again, because he has a point.

Air shoots from his nostrils in silent laughter, and he once more curves his arm around me and nudges me closer to him. "It's not 'cause of all the shit I give you, is it?" he asks when I expected the complete opposite from him. I _expected _him to give me shit.

"No," I mumble, gazing down at his hand in my lap that I'm still clutching with my own.

"Sure?" he prompts me.

"It's not..." I assure him.

"Okay..." he pauses to rub his chin in contemplation, "is it because of what that priss-boy called you?" His tone tightens and it suddenly occurs to me that his hostility for Mike Newton runs deep.

I shake my head and scoff. "No."

"So...why this suddenly change of heart?"

I consider it for a moment, but come up empty. "I don't know..." I conclude.

"Bella..." His tone sounds all-knowing, as if he knows exactly what's going through my mind and he's taking secret pleasure in it.

"What?" I sigh, bowing my head to rub my brow with my fingertips. He's making me feel self-conscious again, and it's becoming an uncomfortable trend.

"You broke up with your boyfriend after nine months because you wouldn't have sex with him, and less than a week later you're offering it to me. And we're only _pretending_."

He's stumped me again. I'm speechless; something he doesn't fail to notice, and as a smirk once more edges across his face it rebounds in me as impatience. "What are you implying!? That I'm _in love_ with you!?" I burst, a little too passionately.

He shrugs a shoulder languidly, and he's back to pissing me off. "You tell me."

"Unequivocally, _no_!" I state.

"_Unequivocally_?" He arches a brow again and mocks me.

I shove him. "Why are you so fixated with me being in love with you?" I demand. "If I didn't know better I'd swear you want me to be."

"Yeah, because I can't think of anything that would complicate shit more," he mutters and I'm uncertain whether he's being sarcastic or a complete smart arse.

"Well, I'm not in love with you, so get over yourself!" I snap. "Jesus, do you ever stop thinking you're some kind of Greek god of perfection?"

"Not really," he says simply like the abject arsehole he is.

"Go home. You're getting on my nerves!" I lunge to my feet, preparing to leave the room when he grabs my wrist and attempts to pull me back down.

"Okay, calm your tits," he says with a sigh.

"You calm you dick!" I retort, yanking my hand free from him. "You're treating me as if the prospect of me having feelings for you is in the same context as me giving you AIDS."

"I'm just trying to work you out!" he exclaims, pulling himself to his feet beside me, and for the first time I realise he's frustrated. "Since Monday you've been treating me like a fucking leper and now all of a sudden you're making deals with me to have sex. You're confusing me. I need to know what the fuck I'm getting myself into."

"Obviously I didn't mean it," I blurt out impulsively. "I was high—okay? I've never been high b-before." Seemingly out of nowhere my voice breaks and I'm forced to turn my back on him so he can't see the tears that pool in my eyes.

From behind me I hear him release his breath in a gush before he quite obviously groans to himself. "Bella..." he mutters.

"You're right, okay?" I declare, turning back to face him again and clumsily wiping away my tears. "I'm just a little kid. The snot-faced virgin you don't shy away from telling me. I'm just...I'm tired of being a joke to you."

"You're _not_ a joke to me," he counters as his hands wrap around my upper arms, and it suddenly occurs to me that behind those normally shrewd green eyes of his, he really is capable of tenderness. "Not even close. You just wasted nine months of your time on a _fucking arsehole_ who didn't value you!"

"You have a funny way of making me feel valued..." I mumble before severing his gaze to hastily dry my eyes.

"If I didn't value you, Bella, I wouldn't be wasting my time on you, for any reason."

"Wasting your time...? ..._What_...?" I utter, blinking back my tears as I attempt to construe his meaning.

He groans to himself again, his eyes closing while his brow creases further behind it. In the next moment he pulls me against him and wraps his arms tightly around me. "Jesus you're a pain in the neck. I didn't mean it like that."

I'm happy to let it go, and releasing a shuddering breath, I curl myself against his chest. Despite his propensity of tormenting the hell out of me there will always be something about Edward that's safe to me. "I just feel...so out of my depth with you. You have a way of making me feel two inches tall."

"I just like to shit stir you, but you get too bent out of shape all the bloody time," he replies, and while his voice lightens with amusement there's also warmth behind it.

"I know..." I mumble, exhaling heavily one more time before inevitably pulling myself from him.

"You done slobbering all over me?" he teases me, and despite myself I break into a smile.

"Shut up."

He smiles as well, though his is more out of his perpetual amusement in me more than anything. "You know what your old lady said to me after you chucked a hissy fit this morning and left?"

"God, what...?" I mumble, not sure I want to know.

"She reckons she could feel the sexual tension between us like it was electricity." He smirks, fighting the obvious urge to laugh but there's also something crafty about his expression.

I groan and drop my forehead to my palm. "She's...just... She thinks there's something wrong with me..." I admit.

"Why is that?"

I look up and meet his gaze wryly. "She can't understand how I haven't jumped your bones already."

Naturally, he thinks it's hilarious. "I can't, either."

I shove him, but I'm grateful he's able to lighten the mood.

"Geez you're a head case," he teases me, curling his arm around my shoulders again and dragging me back to the lounge with him. "Are we going to watch something, or would you rather make your mother proud and jump my bones?"

My smile broadens, but despite Edward's ability to shrug off any and all awkwardness, I'm not gifted with the same talent. I feel like an idiot. "I'm sorry I acted mental," I mumble sheepishly.

"Eh...it's not as if I haven't always known about it."

I sigh, but it's completely feigned, and I'm suddenly flooding with affection for the shithead. "You're an arsehole..."

"So, we gonna kiss and make up?" he puts to me a moment later, after we've finally settled on a movie to watch.

"No—stop it."

He groans. "Okay, you either kiss me or tell me the real reason you want to hand over your virginity to me."

"It's 'cause..." I begin but abandon it. I'm fairly certain I understand why, but it's still a matter of expressing it without causing his head to expand any bigger than it already is.

"It's '_cause_..." he presses me.

"It's 'cause I trust you," I decide to just be open about it. "Despite you taking the piss out of me any chance you get, you're still the only guy I can relax around."

"Sure it's not 'cause you're in love with me," he whispers in my ear.

"Oh my god!" I blurt out and he laughs.

"I'm still not going to hold you to it," he reminds me, but when I turn to him, I'm suddenly cynical. I know he's somewhat capable of being a gentleman but this passes all realms of plausibility.

"Prove it. Call me _snotface_."

He opens his mouth but immediately hesitates, and I'm pretty sure it's the only time I've ever seen him blush.

"Ah...see?" I point it out, my grin pulling triumphantly. I'm also sure it's the first time in history I've ever got one over him. "You want to have sex with me, too."

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**Beta Note: **

**I had to ask Lyndal what this sentence/phrase meant because I hadn't heard it before. So, if any of you were confused like I was...**

_**His smile subtly turning inward means**_**-Another way of saying he's smiling to himself at her expense.  
**

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. All reviews get a spoiler.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Happy weekend, and happy reading.  
Thanks to Kim, Melinda and Biebs. And everyone lovely enough to fave or leave a review.  
Hope you enjoy.**

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**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 9.**

I can't look at him again, which is really bloody frustrating. Instead, I stare up at the porch light at the swarm of Christmas beetles and flying ants as if they're more interesting than the good-looking shithead before me.

The good-looking shithead who knows exactly what's going through my head and is smirking accordingly.

"Kiss me."

"No," I immediately counter, meeting his eyes for no more than a second while mine narrow.

"Yes." His gaze shifts to what I'm staring at and his smirk broadens.

"No!" I stress. "I don't have to get used to you feeling me up because you're_ not_ _going to_ feel me up."

He scoffs obnoxiously. "What if I do it subconsciously?"

"Restrain yourself. I'm sure it's possible even for you. Have I ever grabbed your...?" I quickly abandon it, feeling my face flush brazenly.

"_My_...?" he coaxes me to elaborate as a full grin momentarily supplants his self-assurance.

"Shut up—you know what I mean." I huff.

"My _penis_?" he mocks me, arching a cocky brow while fighting the obvious urge to laugh.

"God, you're a smart arse!"

"Stop your bitching and kiss me—your old man will be here soon," he reminds me as if that will somehow get me to comply.

Yeah, my parents are due home in roughly twenty minutes. My mother warned us. Or more to the point, she warned _Edward_, and of course he found great amusement in it. How she got his number is anyone's guess. Though she more than likely asked him for it. Still, the moment I get hold of her phone I'm deleting it.

"Who do you think he'll kill if that happens?" I put to him, folding my arms across my chest.

"Me," he replies, shrugging an indifferent shoulder, "but it'll be you who'll get handcuffed to the bathroom sink."

I huff for the second time because he's right and he knows it. "Would you just bugger off already?"

"Well, _kiss me_!" He over exaggerates it.

"No!" I reiterate.

"You did grab me, by the way. Or have you forgotten?" He arches that brow again, his grin returning full force.

"That was different," I point out.

"No, it wasn't—how?"

"We weren't kissing."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does!"

"Plus, you kneed me—forgotten that, as well?"

"You...you came at me too quickly!" I blurt, becoming flustered.

He snorts back how he obviously wanted to reply and before I can turn around and slam the front door on him, he reaches out and grabs my hand. "I'm not going home until you kiss me."

I shove him off me. "Fine, I'll kiss you—on one condition."

He rolls his eyes. "God, here we go."

"Tell me you want to have sex with me."

"Of course I want to have sex with you," he says without hesitation, and naturally he's completely stumped me.

"...What...?"

"I'm male, aren't I?"

"_What_?" I repeat through clenched teeth this time. "Is that all?"

"What did you want me to say? That I'm in love with you, too?"

I open and close my mouth repeatedly and in silence while he all but laughs at me. "You...you said you're not going to make me go through with it!" I refresh his memory with a little too much desperation.

He shrugs again before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Depends how I'm feeling at the time."

"Go home."

"Kiss me."

"Bloody hell!"

"Just do it. You know you want to."

"_ALICE_!" I call out at the top of my lungs as Edward advances on me and clamps his hand over my mouth.

"Would you shut up?" he demands in a whisper.

"I will when you stop accosting me," I return.

"Accosting you..." he echoes, rolling his eyes and scoffing again half beneath his breath.

"Am I acting _virgin_? Hm?"

"You are."

"Say it."

"You think I'm an idiot?"

"You want to have sex with me—_badly_," I taunt him, pretty bloody naively.

"Yeah, it's been a while. I'm pretty horny," he responds casually, shrugging again.

"Fuck you!"

He laughs, sinking a hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "I think you owe me after this," he says, opening his Facebook and showing it to me in explanation.

**You think I don't know you hacked me, you snivelling little prick? **He'd written along with a screenshot of his post from this morning outing me. He'd tagged me in it. I didn't get the notice; I turned them off for my own sanity.

"Owe you!" I repeat in disbelief. "Did you forget it was you who wrote it?—and buck-toothed?" I shove him, instantly recalling my offense to it. "That was shitty."

"It was, but you pissed me off," he says as if that's somehow justification. "Stop stalling!"

"What?"

"You said you'll kiss me if I admit I want to have sex with you. I did, so pucker up."

He's rendered me speechless again, and you'd think after this many times I'd see the error in arguing with him. This of course, only causes that immensely annoying grin of his to broaden, as he curls his arms around my waist and draws me to him.

"You wanted me to say something else, didn't you...?" he teases me, the tone of his voice dropping me as he dips his face closer to mine.

"No," I say defiantly, but I'm acting petulantly and too defensively. We both know it. "Okay, just bloody get on with it," I concede with a sigh.

He doesn't hesitate, and last thing I see is that smile of his before I close my eyes and feel the sensation of his lips closing over mine. While his mouth is slightly parted, it's only brief. It's the last thing I'm expecting, but still, I'm as equally gobsmacked as if he kissed me like he did at the cinema. Or this afternoon in the treehouse when he'd taken a handful of my boob.

Maybe if Mike had ever kissed me like this I'd be more immune, I decide to rationalise while staring up at him, knowing I'm just as dazed as I am turned bloody on.

"You're a shithead!" I blurt out of nowhere in an obvious attempt at diversion, and like an utter lunatic.

"I know..." he replies complete with a charming bloody smile this time, before he flicks me in the forehead. "Get inside before your old man kills me."

"Bye!" I snap like a child, and in reply, he blatantly snorts.

"_Bye_!" he imitates me. "See you tomorrow, booger."

"See ya, arsehole..." I mutter, deciding not to react, and turning my back on him I trudge back inside.

**. . .**

"So...?" My mother asks expectantly exactly half a second after cracking open my bedroom door and poking her head inside.

I sigh very deliberately and only half beneath my breath. "So?" I know what she's hinting at. How could I not?

"Did you...?" she steps inside my room and her entire face is animated.

"No," I say simply, staring down at my phone; at Edward's Facebook post more specifically and the conclusions everyone's coming to about his "hacking" incident.

Mike is quite clearly the scapegoat, and Edward is vowing revenge. I'm beginning to think he planned this from the beginning. He's that cagey.

"_What_?" My mother sounds aghast; though, it's in the same context as if I'd just told her I drank drain cleaner. "What happened?" her tone softens as she sits beside me.

"Nothing..." I mumble, my eyes steeled to my phone.

"Did you have a fight?" she continues to probe, treading lightly around me, and I laugh dryly.

"When are we not fighting?" I mutter more or less to myself.

"It just means you have great chemistry, sweetie," she adds continuing to play devil's bloody advocate, before wrapping her arm around my shoulder and squeezing me with entirely too much enthusiasm.

I sigh again for her benefit this time. "Can you not text him for now on?" I change the subject.

"He gave me his number," she replies in her defence, as I immediately quirk a dubious brow.

"_He _did?"

"Okay...well, I asked for it," she admits, waving her palm offhandedly.

"_Mum_..." I complain, but I'm not the least bit surprised. "You do realise the more you pry into our relationship the further back you're setting us?"

"Honey..."

"I don't need a third wheel in this. He's hard enough to deal with as it is!" I snap, giving my frustration free rein for a moment, but it's not exactly my mother who's the cause of it; it's the good looking shithead next door. The good looking shithead who is beginning to get under my skin in ways I never expected.

"He's not a schoolboy, sweetie, so of course it's going to be harder to deal with him. I'm always here if you need me," she says with a lot more tact in her tone and I suddenly feel terrible.

"I'm sorry to take this out on you, it's just..." I have no idea what it is, and that's the whole problem. I let it go, and it's best I don't give my mother any more details than she already has.

"Would you like a B12 tablet?" she offers, squeezing my shoulders again with affection this time, while I internalise my agony.

"Sure."

My mother returns with a mug of herbal tea—which I have little doubt is laced with some kind of aphrodisiac—and two vitamins, and after feigning a suddenly bout of exhaustion, I allow her to tuck me in bed. My parents' date night does not end when they return home, and it's better for my overall psychological wellbeing that I'm not in any way privy to it.

Five minutes later, however, Alice texts me. **Can you sneak out?**

**Why? **I reply with an inward groan.

**When the cat's away...** She deliberately alludes, before her explanation arrives a few seconds later. **Edward cracked the lock on Dad's liquor cabinet.**

**No. **Is my very definitive answer.

**Why?** She replies complete with several sad face emoji's.

**I have no desire to be around your brother when he's drunk. Being stoned with him was enough for one day. **

**Come on, Bells! If it's just me, him and Jas it'll be awkward. Besides, Jas has no idea you and Edward are only pretending. I want to see if you two can pass around him. **

**Why isn't Edward asking me this? **I reply for want of a refusal that she'll accept.

**He said you'll more than likely agree if I ask. **She answers, and of course he did. The shithead is just as crafty as he is good looking. **Please come? **She adds when I don't immediately reply.

**Fine. **I give in knowing Edward will more than likely _legally_ break into the house to get me if I don't come willingly. Now that he's an official key-holder.

"Ugh..." I grumble as I begrudgingly pull myself from beneath my covers and switch on my bedside lamp. After yanking back on the same clothes I wore today, I tiptoe out of my room and into the darkened hall.

My parents have obviously taken _Date Night_ _Part Two_ into their bedroom, and with that knowledge I creep into the family room and escape out the back sliding door.

Edward's waiting for me just outside; he jumps out at me from behind my mother's frangipani tree and almost gives me a stroke.

"I'm trying not to alert my parents, you idiot!" I hiss, after he releases his palm from over my mouth; I'd almost shrieked down the neighbourhood, after all.

"Who'd you think it was?" he replies in a whisper, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leading me in the direction of his house.

"You need to give me warning!" I insist, and he smirks; something that's obvious even in the moonlight.

"We tried that already. I didn't go down well—for me. Remember?"

I only sigh but don't reply.

Edward hops the fence between our houses and then helps me over. We enter his house through the patio sliding door, the same way I'd escaped mine, and into the family room. Alice and Jas are holding up on one of the sofas that sits away from us while getting pretty heavy and heated with each other. In the hand he has around Alice's shoulders, Jas is clutching what looks like a bottle of vodka, while his other is cupped to Alice's breast.

Immediately uncomfortable, I look away and straight into Edward's gaze. He looks repulsed, and as he walks past the two of them he slaps Jas in the back of the head, sending him lunging forward.

"Jesus!" Jas exclaims, releasing Alice's breast to rub the place Edward had just assailed him. "What d'ya do that for?"

"If you spill that bottle I'll rip your dick off!" Is Edward's typical reply before he adds. "And stop feeling up my bloody sister in front of me!"

"Get real, Edward!" Alice snaps, but from the looks of her she's embarrassed more than anything. "How many times have I been forced to witness you put your grubby little hands all over your latest fling?"

Edward scoffs as if it's completely ridiculous, while I almost automatically tense. I have no idea why, though, and I don't really want to analyse it.

"Hey, Bells," Alice greets me as if only just noticing my presence.

"Hey," I reply, my voice stiff, and whether Edward notices I have no idea. Curving his elbow around my neck, he yanks me to him and pulls me toward the kitchen. "Edward!" I complain, attempting to shove off him.

He releases me casually before picking up the bottle of Tequila sitting on the kitchen island. "Want a drink?" he offers, pouring himself a shot.

"No."

"Sure?" he adds simply, throwing the glass back and drinking its contents in one go. He clears his voice roughly, tilting his head against it.

"I haven't really drank before," I confess in a quiet voice. "I'd probably get sick."

"Yeah," he muses, turning to face me with a shrewd grin. "Didn't your oldies serve _punch_ at your eighteen birthday party?" He snorts beneath his breath and pours himself a second shot.

"That you spiked!" I remind him, nudging him.

"That wasn't me!" He feigns innocence, but I only _tsk_ not even remotely convinced.

In truth, it's best I don't drink. It would more than likely only exacerbate this attraction—or whatever the hell it is—I have for him that is completely blindsiding me.

"Besides, I don't trust that you won't take advantage of me," I add after a pause.

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't appear too offended. "So we're back to you thinking I'm going to roofie you again."

"Look what happened in the tree house!" I point out a little too sharply before Edward places his index finger to his lips in emphasis. "_Well_?" I stress my point, ignoring him.

He snorts, completely at my expense this time. "You weren't exactly removed from your faculties, booger."

"Synonyms are out, too!" I insist, refusing to let him get around his banned insults.

"What?" he asks, blankly.

It's me who scoffs this time, as he once more curves his arm around my neck; gentler this time.

"If you can't trust me, how are you going to give me your virginity?" he murmurs against my ear.

"I do trust you," I'm forced to begrudgingly admit.

"Of course you do. You're in love with me."

"Can you just stop?" I sigh.

He chuckles, all too sure of himself, and once again leans closer to me. "If we're going to pass in front of midget's boyfriend we're going to have to act like they are."

I elbow him away from me. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

He laughs easily, then picks up the recently filled shot glass and downs it. "Sure you don't want a drink?" he extends the offer.

"I'm sure."

"You want a Coke then? Pepsi?"

"Yeah."

After pulling open the refrigerator and grabbing a diet coke from inside, he passes it to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"My room, or do you want to hang with midget?" he puts to me.

"We'll stay with Alice," I say wryly, because it's not as if his motives aren't _really _obvious.

"I'm not feeling you up in front of my sister," he immediately objects like the shithead he is.

"Stop it!" I burst, becoming completely exasperated, but I'm not angry. It's becoming almost impossible to get angry at him; which is a real bloody worry.

He only breaks into a grin and pulls me back in the family room. I lay my phone on the coffee table and sit on the sofa opposite Jas and Alice while Edward flops beside me.

At that exact moment my phone lights up with a message, as Mike's name flashes on the screen.

"What does that prick want!?" Edward demands, his voice all but turning to a growl, while curious—and a little annoyed—I click it open.

**I had nothing to do with hacking your boyfriend's Facebook, so tell him to get off my back!**

I barely get the chance to read it when Edward suddenly snatches it from me and starts typing out a reply.

"Edward!" I protest, attempting to grab it back but he jerks it away from me, and only after he's finished, does he hand it to me.

**I haven't begun to get on your back yet, you weak-arse cunt, and if you ever contact Bella again, I'll fucking kill you. You got that? **He replied.

"What...?" I begin, but abandon it in sheer bewilderment at his sudden hostility.

"If he's got a fucking problem he should bring it to me!" he fumes.

I arch a brow subtly letting him know that this whole Facebook debacle was his doing, and in reply he only huffs sharply through his nose and clenches his jaw.

"What did he say?" Alice speaks up, obviously curious by her brother's behaviour.

"Nothing!" Edward mutters, his voice hard.

"Edward," I turn to him and whisper. "_Calm down_."

"I'm fine," he states darkly.

"Okay, we need a chiller," Alice says, and getting up she switches on the stereo system in the corner of the room; romantic music immediately starts streaming from it.

"You calm?" I ask Edward grabbing his hand and squeezing, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned about him. It's rare to see him this angry, and I don't like it.

"Yeah," he replies, expelling the air from his lungs as his eyes break from mine.

"What did he do to you, Mate?" Jas breaks in, because that's what it would appear like from an outside observer; that something went down between them. Something other than me.

Edward glances at him momentarily and shrugs, then pulling himself abruptly from the sofa he disappears into the kitchen; to get more alcohol, I assume.

Jas smiles at me; I return it with the same amount of discomfort.

"What happened, Bells?" Alice asks, dropping her voice covertly.

I open my mouth to reply, but shut it again, shaking my head. The truth is I have no idea.

"Do you want a drink, Bella?" Jas offers, as some kind of icebreaker I can only conclude, and to hell with it.

"Yeah," I concede.

Jumping up, he grabs a clean glass and fills it roughly an inch high from the bottle he's been drinking straight from. "There you go." He hands it to me.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Bottoms up," he says, raising the bottle to his lips again.

Leaning his head back he takes a large gulp while I empty the contents of the glass into my mouth and swallow simultaneously.

I've just set my throat on fire, and after several minutes of coughing and spluttering, Edward returns to the room.

"What happened?" he asks puzzled, taking the seat beside me again.

"Vodka...nothing..." I utter through my still burning vocal cords.

He almost smirks, but says nothing.

"Are you alright?" I ask softly after I've recovered my voice, and this time he does smile, but it's awkward.

"Yeah," he answers, tilting his head toward me, and the storm brewing behind his eyes has definitely calmed. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I assure him.

He smiles; though, it takes a good twenty minutes before the tension completely leaves him and he's back to his old self, while I begin to feel surprisingly relaxed. So relaxed I really just want to lay against him and close my eyes; something I eventually do. He doesn't appear surprised; he only wraps his arm around me and tugs me closer.

Opposite us on an identical sofa, Alice and Jas slide up to each other and begin to get inappropriately intimate; considering they're in company. Ironically, I'm glad for the distraction, but it means I have no option but to centre all my focus on Edward.

"Doesn't that bother you?" I whisper in his ear.

"If your oldies started getting their rocks off in front of you, would it bother you?" he replies dropping his head to my shoulder as if he were deliberately shielding himself, and I immediately pull the both of us to our feet.

"Okay, screw that. Let's go to your room."

He lifts his head to reveal a broad grin. "Well, alrighty!" His tone instantly brightens.

I whack him. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm doing it out of empathy."

"Empathy works for me." His grin widens, and in reply I release an exasperated breath; it's all I have. "Hang on." He grabs my hand and detours us into the kitchen where he grabs the half empty bottle of tequila before we hide out in his room.

"Music?" he asks, clicking iTunes open on his phone and browsing his playlists.

"Yeah," I reply, turning to gaze around his room. I don't think I've ever seen his bed made in my life, and he has clothes everywhere; dirty _and_ clean I can only assume. In one corner he has a boxing bag suspended from the ceiling with the gloves lying haphazardly under it. Beneath his window is the same desk he's had since he was twelve with a desktop computer sitting on top of it. It's switched on; his background photo is of a blonde in a bikini, posing suggestively with breasts the size of melons. "Are you serious? You are such a Neanderthal." He glances over at me, and I motion to Miss Blonde and Busty.

He smirks. "At least I lust after real people. Not like _someone _I know and her weird fetish for that cross-dressing pixel boy, _Cloud_."

"Hey, he could kick your arse."

He snorts obnoxiously. "In what world? Besides, dudes who carry swords that big are _seriously_ overcompensating."

"Uh, like you and that beast of yours in the garage?" I arch a pointed brow, and I actually make that smirk of his fade for a moment.

For a moment.

"You think I'm overcompensating?" His self-assurance is back and I'm pretty sure I just walked straight into it. "Compared to _who_, Bella?"

"Shut up," is my paltry comeback.

"Priss boy?" he continues to push me. "Did he show it to you?"

"What? No—we're not talking about this."

"You brought it up."

"You did!" My voice practically fails at his gall. "Cloud's big sword?" I remind him.

"Big sword, baggy pants..."—he clears his throat deliberately—"pretty obvious he's not sporting much."

"He's anime!" I burst.

"Wasn't that my original point?" He gets that wicked gleam in his eyes and I completely give up.

"Oh my god..." I drop my head into my splayed palm in defeat.

He laughs and shoves his phone into his speaker dock; Kings of Leon start blasting from it. Turning back to me, he holds his hand out. "Would you stop talking and come here."

"Why?" I ask cynically, and he rolls his eyes.

"Why do you think?" Grabbing my hand he drags me to him, then snatching the liquor bottle with his other hand he pulls us to his bed.

We fall on our backs, and suddenly awkward I stare up at his ceiling fan.

"Sure you don't want some?" he holds out the tequila to me again after taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"No," I reply, I'm chill enough and a disconcerting amount of lust is beginning to course through my veins. I turn to him; his cheeks are turning red and his normally astute eyes are starting to glaze. "You're not going to pass out on me or anything, are you?"

He breaks into an immediate grin as his laughter shoots through his nose. "No." He extends an arm, and accepting it, I allow him to pull me to him. He's warm, and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol running through his system or it's just him, but I'm getting sleepy. His chest is firm but soft, and the tempo of his heart is oddly comforting.

He takes another gulp of the bottle, and then another, and pretty soon I start seeing an entirely new side of him.

Drunk Edward is sappy, and weird. _Really_ weird. Like _gentleman_ weird, sans all his smart arse shit-headedness. He's also more hands-on, but not in a grabby way.

He starts to caress my face and thread his fingers with mine over and over, while telling me how pretty I am. My pretty eyes, pretty lips, pretty body...

"Okay, I'd appreciate this a lot more if you weren't drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he insists even as his words slur.

"All right..." I say wryly.

"Bella..." he mumbles, closing his eyes and releasing his breath with a long hum.

"What?"

"I like pretending you're my girlfriend..." he says, his eyes remaining closed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," a smirk pulls on his lips, "it's totally fucking with Lauren."

I huff but I'm not sure I have the right to be pissed off, and I force myself to rein it back. "That's good. She didn't deserve you. Who would cheat on your hot arse? Girl has rocks in her head," I tease him, and even as I hear my own voice speak those words I can barely believe it.

He immediately cocks open an eye and squints up at me as his lips tug further into that familiar grin of his. "See, I knew you were in love with me."

"You wish."

"Yeah," he murmurs closing his eyes again and groaning drowsily to himself. "I do..."

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading, and goodnight. I'm gonna crash. I'll give all you reviewers spoilers in the morning.  
xoxo**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Happy weekend, peeps. Thank you, Kim, Melinda and Biebs, and I hope you enjoy.  
xoxo**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 10**

It's early when I wake. The fresh scent of dawn is still in the air, but I'm hot. I'm _sweltering_ hot.

Groaning softly to myself, I roll clumsily to my side as my arm unwittingly drapes across Edward's naked chest. That's when I realise his is wrapped around me and is the cause of my heat stroke.

"What..." I utter, only semi coherent as I pull myself from his arms and sit up. "WHAT!?" I repeat not three seconds later, my voice rising by several decibels upon the realisation I'm wearing only my bra and knickers. "Oh god..." I can barely manage a whisper as my physical condition all too soon becomes apparent. My head's pounding and my stomach's churning.

Beside me Edward takes a long breath and releases it into a languid hum. He, like me, is sparsely dressed. He's bare-chested and wearing only a pair of army green-shorts.

Impatiently, I shove him fully awake; he jolts and squints up at me, one eye open. "What are you bitching about?" he asks, his voice reflecting an early-morning huskiness as a drowsy smile pulls on his lips.

"What happened?" I demand, my voice wavering. I hastily move to cover my chest as I search his room for my clothes. They're lying in a heap at the foot of his bed.

"What happened...?" he echoes, his brow knotting with confusion as he pulls himself semi-upright by his elbows. "Don't you remember?" Little by little a smirk replaces his smile, and losing patience I shove him again.

"Edward! Jesus!" I burst. "I'm naked!"

"Naked?" He snorts, sitting himself fully beside me. "You call that naked?" His brow arches, and for the third time I shove against him; he barely budges.

"Don't look!" I blurt, pulling my knees to my chest in a futile effort to conceal myself further.

"Bella..." he begins after taking a long breath that can't nearly conceal his amusement. "We didn't do anything."

"...What? How do you know?" I ask stupidly, and this time he snorts his laugh beneath his breath.

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember—and so would you. Would you relax? The power cut out last night. It was hot, we drank some more, fooled around, and then we crashed. That's all!"

"...Fooled around?" I breach, not sure I want to hear the answer.

"You said I was a total spunk, and then you kissed me. You groped me too." His grin turns sly and he winks, while my heart plunges into Dante's seventh circle of Hell.

"No, I didn't..." I contradict him feebly as my voice all but fails.

"You reckon?" he replies all too sure of himself.

"Oh god—how much did I drink?" I burst, burying my burning face in both palms.

"Not much." He wraps his arm around my shoulders and nudges me. "_Lightweight_."

"Stop it," I mutter pitifully from behind my hands. I want to sob from continued realisation but I'm not sure my head would survive tears. "Can you get me a Panadol or something?"

In response he expels a deliberate breath. "Righto. Hang on a sec."

I feel the sensation of his bed dip and then spring back up as he gets to his feet, and peeking through my fingers I watch him leave the room. As his bedroom door closes behind him, I lunge to my feet and yank my clothes up from the floor, clumsily throwing them back on before he can return. All the while my head spins and I'm assailed by a huge wave of vertigo.

Two minutes later he re-enters his room carrying a can of Diet Coke. He appears way too cheerful and I'm not sure if it's grating on my nerves or making my skin crawl.

He sits beside me, drapes his arms around me again, and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I mutter taking it from him and avoiding all contact with those cagey eyes of his.

"And here," he adds after pulling the two paracetamols from his pocket.

In silence I swallow the tablets, squeezing my eyes closed against my revolting stomach for a moment, before I brave his response. "What really happened last night?" I ask, wanting to shy away from him.

"You really don't remember?" He rubs his chin as if weighing it up.

"No." I sigh, dropping my forehead to my palm.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"You were teasing me about Cloud having a big sword."

"Is that it?" His voice rises in surprise.

"That's it."

"Hmm...okay, well you told me Lauren was an idiot for '_cheating on my hot arse'_." He quotes with his fingers, that smirk resurfacing on his face again as I groan loudly and in complete self-pity. He chuckles completely at my expense. "After that we laid down and talked for a while. You drank a bit more, you got all touchy-feely with me 'cause you're completely in love me"—I immediately elbow him, and again he laughs—"then the power went out. It was bloody hot. I took off my shirt, you took off yours. I pulled your skirt off, you told me I still have six days, and then we crashed."

"You pulled my skirt off?!" I echo, my voice rising, affronted.

"You had no issues with it last night," he points out.

"I was drunk!" I practically screech, and almost convulse from the torture it causes my head.

"So was I!" he mocks me.

"I was drunker!" I state the obvious.

"You weren't that drunk," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Did I throw up?" I ask, cringing at the thought.

"No." He laughs through his nose this time. "Would you chill?—geez. We didn't do anything we haven't already done."

"You have not removed my clothes before!" I remind him.

"I grabbed your tits. Same thing." He shrugs a shoulder.

"It _is _not!" I assert. "I'm going home!" I drag myself to my feet only to be afflicted by a sudden bout of dizziness. I sway and almost topple over sideways when Edward immediately pulls himself from the bed and steadies me.

"You go home like this and your old man will shoot me," he says, amusement clearly laced in his tone, before pulling me against his chest.

I close my eyes and release a conceding breath. Despite the current temperature, his warmth is comforting; definitely a soft place to fall in this gross condition I'm in. "I should eat something," I mumble closing my eyes, while the trace scent of his aftershave causes another roll of nausea to overrun me. "Just...hold me."

"Jesus, you're needy," he teases me, his tone softening before he drops his face to the top of my head. "Feel better?" he asks against my hair after a few moments.

"No," I whimper, the scent of him is definitely compromising me, but at the same time I can't bring myself to pull from his arms.

"It's early, want to get some more sleep?" he offers, turning me back toward his bed.

"I should go home," I mumble, but I don't move.

"You're _not_ going home. I do value my life, you know."

"Hmm..." I murmur, expelling a completely resigned breath; I'm not really in the right state to argue with him, "but turn your air-con back on. It's hot." I'm not sure if it's me, him or this house.

"Alright," he agrees. "Be right back."

The moment he leaves the room, I turn and flop stomach first on his bed, groaning softly only half beneath my breath. I feel like crap, and my skin is tingling; at least, I think it is, but I'm not exactly sure, or thinking coherently.

Cool air begins to waft from the air-conditioning vent in his room, and I moan from the sheer pleasure of it. I roll to my back in an effort to cool my burning cheeks when Edward returns.

"Better?" he puts to me, pulling himself beside me on his bed.

Closing my eyes I only hum softly in response.

He chuckles to himself and slides his hand across my stomach. "Come here, royal pain in the neck," he mumbles, tugging me closer to him.

I let him, and position myself against his still-bare chest as I drift back into unconsciousness.

**. . .**

When I wake a second time it's mid-morning, and by Alice.

"Hey, you guys, Jas wants to—," she freezes mid-sentence and when I rouse myself and glance up at her I realise she's staring at us, mouth agape.

"Do you ever knock, midget?" Edward grumbles, turning his head to scowl at her.

"What...?" I ask her blankly, still half-sleep as I untangle myself from Edward's arms.

She shakes her head shortly to herself and starts over, "Jas wants to go to Maccas for lunch. You in?"

I groan loudly at the mere mention of it, while Edward agrees begrudgingly on our behalf.

"I should clean myself up—and brush my teeth," I mumble, crawling pitifully from the bed.

"Come on, then," Alice holds out her hand, and taking mine she pulls me from the room.

"Hey, Bella," Jas greets me as we enter Alice's bedroom. He's lying on her bed, bare-chested like Edward.

I immediately avert my gaze, mumbling out an awkward, "Hey, Jas," in reply.

We head straight into Alice's bathroom where I tie back my hair, wash my face, and using her spare toothbrush—that she keeps for me—I clean my teeth.

"God, my head..." I mutter, massaging my forehead with my fingertips. "How the hell can Edward wake up completely _un_-hungover?"

"He's built up immunity," Alice answers sounding distracted.

"What...?" I wonder out loud. She's acting strange.

"Bella..."

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?"

"...What do you mean?" I ask puzzled.

"You've completely fooled Jas," she says, her voice dropping covertly, "but...you're beginning to fool me, as well."

I shake my head, still unsure of her meaning or where to even begin. "I...I mean..._nothing_."

"Did you..._do anything_ last night?" she asks her voice dropping to a whisper while her expression almost becomes pained.

"Of course not!" I insist.

"You still going along with that bet of yours?"

I shake my head; I have no idea how to answer this question, either. "Edward reckons he won't hold me to it," I mumble breaking her gaze. "Do you have deodorant?" I change the subject as she immediately snorts.

"Edward said that?" she asks dubiously, handing me her roll-on.

"_Yes_," I stress, avoiding her astute gaze as I apply it under my arms.

She scoffs and almost laughs, sounding as if she's in disbelief. "Jesus, what have you done to him?" she asks rhetorically. She's lost me again; I shake my head to reiterate it, and open my mouth to question her when she elaborates. "He's not acting himself, Bella. Not even close to acting himself. I mean, in another universe from himself."

I hesitate, unsure I'm even hearing her correctly. "Alice..."

"I'm beginning to think he's totally into you," she confesses, while my mouth all but falls open.

"No..." I'm immediately doubtful.

"_Yes_," she imitates my tone. "How can you not see it?"

I open my mouth, but once more I have nothing. I only shake my head again.

"I walked in on him and Lauren countless times," she explains, her eyes widening in some kind of emphasis, while on impulse, I stiffen. "I mean, half the time I didn't even know she'd stayed over, but anyway, he always had his back to her, and vice versa."

"Alice..." I begin, but to say what, I have no idea.

"When I walked in on you two just now, he was..._cradling_ you to him. Christ, Bella, I almost bloody cried."

"I...I just don't feel very well," is my flimsy argument, and as expected, she scoffs.

Edward? Into me?

"You've _hoodwinked _him!" is her conclusion as a small smile twitches at the edges of her lips.

"Alice, come on," I immediately dismiss her, sceptical. "Edward? Is it even possible?"

"Oh, it's possible..." she assures me as her grin subtly widens.

"Sure this isn't wishful thinking?" I arch a brow.

"Are you kidding?" she replies, dubiously. "He's the last person I'd wish for you."

"Why?" I'm genuinely curious. "I mean, yeah, he's a shithead and a complete Neanderthal, but deep down, he's super sweet."

"_Sweet_?" she echoes as if she thinks I've completely lost touch with reality. "Jesus, he's hoodwinked you, as well."

"He hasn't!" I insist, a little too defensively, because he's definitely done something to me. What I can't say for certain just yet.

"_Sure_..." she says dryly, over-dramatizing it. "God, this is going to end well..." she mutters, turning around and leaving the bathroom; shaking her head as she does.

**. . .**

The car ride doesn't help my physical condition. Alice's drives while Edward and I are regulated to the back seat. I feel every bump and pot-hole; every inch of road. It echoes ten-fold through my stomach, while I lean up against Edward clutching him for emotional support. I've always been a complete sook when sick; probably because my mother always babied me at the first sign of a sniffle. I've grown accustomed to physical comfort in times like these, and Edward is the only warm body within reach.

He finds it all highly amusing, even if he does make a half-hearted effort to conceal in from me, but I'm not in the right frame of mind to complain. He's warm, so warm it calms my unsettled stomach and throbbing head.

Edward insists on paying, and honestly, I feel so dreadful it doesn't occur to me to protest. Alice and I find a booth, and while I slump against the table with my head in my arms, she chirpily engages me in a one-sided conversation.

"I've thought it over and I think you should go for it. If you're able to tame him, it must be fate."

I only groan in response.

"Plus, you're cute together."

Another groan; in exasperation this time.

"And that way we'll be related."

I look up at her this time. "_What_?" I burst, barely making sense of her.

"He won't let you go. You do realise that, right?"

"Alice..." is all I can manage in my defence.

"You know I totally get all the credit, right?"

"Stop..." I plead with her, muffled through my folded arms as I once more surrender myself to them.

"Bells, he's kind of experienced. So if you need advice..." she alludes, and I groan again.

"He's not as experienced as you think," I reply, wrapping my hands around my head as I attempt to shield myself from the sickly aroma of greasy burgers, and the noise of scores of customers.

"Is that what he told you?" she sounds sceptical.

"Four..."

"Huh?"

"That's how many girls he's been with."

"Bullshit!" she retorts, immediately unconvinced.

"Emily, Rosalie, his boss' daughter, and Lauren," I mumble, and I feel defensive for him all of a sudden; which is ridiculous. Edward can more than take care of himself.

"Who's..._Emily_?" Alice asks, faltering slightly with obvious uncertainty.

"The first girl," I continue to speak with my head in my arms as my heart twinges with guilt.

"Shit..."

"I shouldn't be telling you this..." I add.

"Holy shit," her shock increases.

"Alice..."

"Shove over, booger," Edward's voice breaks into my misery as he nudges me to the side.

"No _synonyms_!" is my knee-jerk reaction.

"What the hell is a synonym?" he asks, dropping his voice.

"You're so illiterate, Edward!" Alice snorts.

"_Alice_!" I burst a little too passionately, jerking my head up to meet her gaze.

She only stares at me for a moment, her mouth falling open again.

"I-I mean..." I stammer, attempting to take it back as a sly grin steadily tugs on Alice's lips. In complete defeat, I flop my head back to the table, resting my forehead on the cool surface.

"Never insult another girl's guy, babe," I hear Jas tease Alice just as she snorts loudly, and wholly for my benefit.

"You right, Bella?" Edward asks, his arm snaking around my back, and there's concern in his voice.

"I'm okay," I mumble.

"I got you a cheeseburger," he says, just as I catch a whiff of it.

"Oh god," I whimper, beginning to tremble. "Edward..."

"Geez, you're not going to puke, are you?" And that's how long his concern for me lasts.

"No!" I insist, forcing my stomach to calm, because while _snotface_ is somewhat tolerable, pukeface definitely won't be.

"You'll feel better if you start eating," he says, and I look up in time to see him take a large bite of his burger. "Trust me."

"Trust you...?" I repeat, feeling suddenly dazed.

"Start with a chip," he suggests, holding one out to me.

I shake my head, and shrugging Edward turns and tosses it at Alice.

"You're an idiot," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Different words that have the same meaning," I speak up, as Edward turns to me in confusion.

"Huh?"

"That's what a synonym means."

He tilts his head and reflects on it for a moment. "Oh." He smiles and it's almost warm. Almost, until it inevitably shifts and becomes shrewd. "I didn't know what it meant, so it doesn't count," he leans forward and murmurs in my ear.

I only sigh, smiling in return; I'm still too sick to put up a fight.

"By the way, your mum texted me while I was getting the food," he adds a moment later, only adding to my torture.

"No..." I utter, mortified.

His smirk turns audible as it shoots through his nose. "She said she knows I'm pretty irresistible, but she'd still like to see your face from time to time."

"Please kill me." It's all I have left, and once again collapsing into my arms, I burst into tears. I feel hopelessly sick, my mother is beyond all realms of rationality embarrassing, I have no idea what's going on inside my head, or heart, and Alice...

Edward takes me outside where the warmth of midday along with the fresh air alleviates my nausea a fraction. We sit along a ledge that walls off the garden; Edward wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer to him.

"Try and eat something," he urges me, once more offering me a chip.

I take it this time and nibble cautiously on it.

"Are you always like this?" he asks after a moment of silence.

"Like what?" I turn to him in confusion.

"You're the only girl I've ever known who cries this much." And while he obviously doesn't mean to offend me, I still don't take it well.

"I'm terribly sorry!" I snap, shoving the entire chip in my mouth without thinking, but my sudden irritation is a good distraction. "I've never had a hangover before, alright?"

"Jesus..." he mutters to himself, tightening his arm around me. "Would you shut up?"

"What...?"

"Shut up and listen." He sounds suddenly frustrated.

"...Why?"

"Is Alice right?"

I open my mouth to answer but hesitate. "About...what?"

"She told me she thinks you're in love with me."

"_What_!?" I demand, all but lunging to my feet. "She said the same thing to me about you!"

He pauses, gauging me a moment before he all but laughs ironically to himself. "Of course she did," he mutters dryly as his expression clouds over. "She probably has this twisted idea of hooking us up for real."

"Christ..." I whisper, dropping my head to my splayed palm. "I should have seen this coming. She tends to get overly invested in certain things."

"Don't worry about it," he assures me with a heavy sigh. "I'll sort her out."

"'Kay..."

"Eat another one." He thrusts another chip in front of my face.

I take it; it goes down better than the one previous, but not by much.

"Hey." He nudges me with his shoulder.

"Yeah?" I ask in a small voice.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there, but you really didn't have to. I haven't taken a thing Alice has said seriously since she was born." He snorts softly though his nose.

"No worries."

"Bella..." he breaches after another round of silence.

"Hm...?"

"You're still so on edge around me. I'm not sure what to do with you," he admits quietly, turning to meet my gaze squarely.

"I'm okay..."

He shakes his head. "One minute you're chill and relaxed around me and the next you get all screechy and irritated."

"You're always teasing me, that's why," I say with a smile, though it doesn't even begin to explain my fray of emotions around him.

"I'm always going to tease you," he replies, leaning slightly toward me, "but it still makes no sense."

"What doesn't?"

"You."

"I-I'm fine," I stammer.

"You sure?" he asks, his brows raising.

"I'm fine, _really_," I assure him with more conviction this time.

He gazes at me for a moment, breaking into a quick grin. "Kiss me."

"What?" I say vacantly, and Jesus this guy. "I feel horrendous and my breath is probably just as bad."

"It's not."

"What is it with you and kissing me?" I ask, feeling suddenly exasperated on top of everything else.

He shrugs a shoulder. "You're getting decent at it."

"Getting?—don't be an arsehole."

He laughs lightly. "When did Alice tell you she thinks I'm in love with you?" he changes course, though his tone remains light.

"This morning when I was brushing my teeth," I answer staring at the ground before turning to him. "When did she tell you?"

"Before we left." A slight smile pulls on his lips. "She told me I've _hoodwinked_"—he quotes with his fingers—"you."

I scoff to myself, shaking my head. "She used that exact phrase with me, except at first she told me she doesn't want me together with you, and five minutes ago she changed her mind."

"Yeah?" he says appearing to appraise it as a smile curves on his lips again; I nudge him.

"Do you want me to fall in love with you so you can give me shit over it?" I ask him after a moment, the tone of my voice dropping seriously.

He turns to meet my gaze as a frown knots his brow. "Is that what you think?"

I shrug. "No, but...I don't know..." With a sigh, I abandon it.

"You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you, Bella?" he mumbles, sounding as if he were speaking it to himself.

"It'd be higher if you didn't continuously torment me," I say wryly.

He grins and almost laughs before hooking his elbow around my neck. "I've known you all your life, snotface. Do you really think I'd do anything really shitty do you?"

Immediately arching a pointed brow, I break into a huge grin just as realisation dawns on him and his entre expression smooths out in alarm.

"I...I—_fuck_! Shit, fuck—shit!" He slaps himself into the forehead. "Damn it!"

I chuckle, breaking into a triumphant grin. "I win!"

"Ah...shit..." he mumbles, rubbing his creased brow heavily.

"What does it matter if you weren't going to make me go through with it?" I remind him.

"That wasn't a definite," he replies, expelling the air from his lungs. "Fuck my life."

"I knew you'd blurt it out eventually," I tease him, my grin pulling broad until it almost instantly falls.

I'm..._disappointed_ he lost, I realise, but why?

Has he really hoodwinked me?

* * *

**A/N: Twas inevitable. Let me know how you liked/disliked. Or not.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to Kim, Melinda and Beibs. And you too.  
**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 11.**

Watching Edward mope is the perfect cure for my hangover. The cheeseburger helped, but it's Edward who's the motivating factor. He's miserable. His disappointment is all but palpable while etched clearly across his face, and he keeps pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes and groaning out loud.

After McDonald's we head back to his and Alice's house. Edward stays sulky, and as I fight to keep my amusement over it from becoming too obvious, Alice notices and gets frustrated.

"Okay, what the hell is going on between you two, now?" she snaps, after observing us from the opposite sofa for several moments. The four of us are watching Netflix; though, only Jas appears to be paying attention.

"I won," is all I say in answer, my grin pulling triumphantly as Alice's eyes spark with realisation. And shock.

"You're kidding!" she bursts, her eyes flicking to Edward as a full smirk pulls on her lips.

"Shut up, midget!" Edward grumbles as she whole-heartedly laughs.

"What's going on?" Jas whispers covertly to Alice.

"That had a bet to have sex the night of the farewell only if Edward stopped calling her snotface," she explains to him before I can interject.

"Alice!" I burst, mortified. "Jesus."

Jas is understandably confused, but doesn't express it—something I'm glad for—while Alice waves her hand to brush me off as she continues to smirk at Edward.

"I guess you know him better than I do, Bells," she teases me.

"I'm going in the shower," Edward mutters, yanking himself abruptly to his feet.

"Yeah, I should get going. I still have to study for my History exam," I say, pulling myself off the sofa behind him.

He pauses mid-stride and glances at me over his shoulder. "Come on, I'll walk you."

He grabs my hand and pulls me after him, stopping on his front porch. My father's home, so he's wasn't likely to walk me to mine.

"Okay..." he relents with a resigned sigh as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What do you want?"

"Huh?" I reply puzzled.

"For winning," he reminds me. "You said you'd think about it, so what do you want?" He's still sulking, and I can't help it, it's hilarious. "Would you stop it?" he demands, frustrated.

"Not so funny when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?" I say, nudging him teasingly.

He breaks into a begrudgingly smile, but it's only fleeting. "You just caught me off guard. I was worried about your hungover arse."

"Too bad," I say simply, as his eyes narrow.

"Do over."

"No."

"Bella—"

"No!" I put my foot down. "Would you give me a do-over?" I cock a brow, and just as he opens his mouth to answer, I pre-empt him. "You would not, so don't bullshit!"

He breaks into a conceding grin. "Midget's right, you really do know me."

"Of course, I do." I fold my arms across my chest, completely satisfied with myself.

He tsks. "You wouldn't have gone through with it anyway," he mumbles, but I refuse to take the bait.

"I guess you'll never know now, will you?" I raise my eyebrows high.

"Bella—"

"Let me think about it some more."

"...What?"

"What I want."

"Fine." He's pouting now, and this time I'm struggling to hold back my laughter. "Knock it off," he grumbles even as his lips twitch into a small smile.

"See you later, then." I turn to step down off the porch when he grabs my hand.

"Oi."

"Kiss you?" I co-opt him, and he smirks.

"You're catching on, snotface."

I shove him. "It's not open season now."

"Yeah it is," he replies, his self-assurance resurfacing.

"No, it isn't."

"Wanna bet?" he arches a brow, and I roll my eyes.

"Fine have it your way." I turn to leave a second time, when once more he grabs my hand. Successfully taking the hint, I close the distance between us, stretch on my toes and plant my lips gently to his. "Bye."

"Bye," he echoes, reaching out to flick my forehead, and just like that shithead is back.

**. . .**

The moment I step through the front door my mother rushes toward me, but anticipating her, I cut her off.

"Hand it over," I demand, thrusting out my palm.

"...Hand what over, sweetie."

"Your phone."

"Oh." She cracks a small smile, while I only huff.

"You embarrassed me, Mum—so no more. Give it to me!"

"But...I don't mean to embarrass you," she speaks up quietly in her defence.

"Too late." I snatch her phone she reluctantly holds out to me, and opening her contacts I find Edward's number and delete it followed by her messages with him. "You need to stop this, Mum. I'm serious!" I plead with her after handing it back.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she appeals to me, pretty pitifully, but undeterred I turn my back on her to head to my room and almost run into my father.

His eyes rest on my mother for a pause before he directs them to me. "What's going on?"

"Mum keeps texting my boyfriend!" I state, knowing my father will understand, if only I can keep shithead out of it.

Just as expected, a slight smile tugs on his lips before his eyes once more catch my mother's. "Renee..."

"I don't mean to embarrass her. I'm just trying to support you." Her pleading eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"I don't need any support!" I retort, feeling my frustration once more overrun me.

"For what reason would you need to contact the Newton boy?" My father puts the question to my mother, confused.

Her eyes meet mine, and I can clearly read her thought process behind them. I only shake my head a little too frantically, but to no avail.

"It's Edward..." My mother outs me, while I groan just barely beneath my breath and drop my head into my hand.

"Edward?" my father echoes, his voice automatically stiffening. "Bella?" he challenges me, turning his scrutinising gaze to mine, as I all but cower beneath it. "That pothead from next door?" His nostrils start flaring, and I know I'm in trouble.

"Dad..."

"No!" He stands firm. "Not happening!"

"Charlie," my mother steps in, putting on her crooning voice. "He's a little reckless, sure, but he's young, _and _he has a good job," she points out, trying to butter him up.

"You know how many times I've caught that little shit stoned out of his mind?" The question is directed at my mother, and after she shakes her head he expands on it for my benefit. "The only reason I don't haul him in is because of his mother!"

"Dad..." I attempt to appeal to him a second time, but I have no idea how to continue.

"Go and get him!" he demands, his breath pushing stiffly through his nose.

"N-now?" I stammer.

"_Now_!" he barks out as I all but jump.

"Snotface..." Edward drawls the moment he opens the door to me. "Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Shaking my head, I only sigh shortly and grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him out with me.

"What...?" he begins, growing in confusion, when without a word, I start tugging him toward my house.

"We've been outed and my father wants to speak to you," I inform him.

"Shit!" he bursts coming to a standstill.

I turn back to him; his expression is knotting with concern. "I...I—should I change?"

"Why?" I ask, throwing him a funny look. "We're not going to court—come on."

"Will I need a bullet proof vest?" he adds lightly, and it's obvious he's attempting to mask his uneasiness.

"Do you have one?" I ask, and when his eyes meet mine I throw him a reassuring smile. "Stop being such a sook. He's all bark."

"I don't really want to call his bluff," he mumbles.

"Hey, Mr Swan, good to see you again," Edward greets my father in the foyer, thrusting out his hand to him.

Charlie only glances down at it for half a second cynically, before his eyes rise to Edward's and harden.

"Come with me," he says lowly, placing his hand on Edward's shoulder and leading him into the living room.

I follow a step behind, sighing inwardly.

"Sit," Charlie directs him.

Edward takes a seat on one end of the sofa while I sit on the other. My father remains standing, and Renee hovers close by.

"You smoke pot?" Charlie puts to him, and although he'd given him the courtesy of asking, we both know it's not a question.

"Yes, sir..." Edward answers honestly and somewhat respectfully after a moment's hesitation.

"You don't anymore," Charlie states as a matter of fact.

"I don't anymore," Edward murmurs in reply.

"Have you given my daughter pot?" His gaze turns severe, but Edward doesn't miss a beat.

"No, sir."

"Are you being honest with me?" Charlie attempts to intimidate him, not even minimally convinced.

"I'm not sure you'd believe me either way," Edward points out, albeit tactfully, while I internally cringe and discreetly motion to Renee to come to the rescue.

"Is there a reason I should?" My father's voice turns sharp. "If you do, your life is forfeit. Remember that."

"Yes, sir," Edward dutifully plays along.

"Have you slept with my daughter?" Charlie continues just as the air is sucked from my lungs in pure mortification.

"_Dad_!" I protest.

"Honey," Renee intervenes, "our daughter is eighteen."

"You were _nineteen_ when she was born," he reminds her, unmoved.

"Dad..."

"Would you like to watch home videos?—you're invited, Edward," Charlie offers seemingly benignly, his gaze resting on Edward as I turn five shades paler.

"Home videos...?" Edward repeats blankly, turning to me.

"My mother's homebirth..." I explain in a quiet voice as Edward's eyes widen in horror.

"Oh—no, that's okay, Mr Swan. I'm good—_really_."

"Honey, there's no need for that," Renee attempts to placate him while both Edward and I sit in agony on the sofa.

"I think she needs a reminder," my father argues.

"She's a virgin, Mr Swan," Edward adds to save his own arse while I only stare at him in disbelief.

"Was that necessary?!" I burst, fighting to keep my voice hushed as my face flashes boldly in equal parts anger and humiliation.

"I'm not watching that shit," he explains his reasoning in a whisper.

I shove him immediately irritated by such a flimsy excuse. "It's not your business to blurt out, you shithead!"

"Your mother knows," he points out as if it's some kind of justification.

"_I _told her!"

My father clears his voice sharply effectively cutting off Edward's reply as we both jump.

"That'll be all. Get going, Edward." Charlie jerks his head toward the door, not even bothering to hold off his blatantly satisfied grin.

Without hesitation, Edward pulls himself to his feet.

"See-ya, Mr Swan," he says, without offering his hand this time. Charlie only grunts in reply before Edward turns his attention to my mother. "Bye, Mrs, Swan."

"Good bye, hon," Renee says with a warm smile, clearing her throat in emphasis for me to join him.

With an impatient huff I drag myself after him.

"You're an arsehole!" I snap once we're safely outside.

He laughs, grabbing my arms and wrapping them around his waist. "I got us out of it, didn't I?"

"By telling my father something he should never know!" I state the obvious.

"He asked."

"_And_...? Or should I have told him about you and your _boss' daughter_?" I sound defensive. And jealous; something Edward doesn't fail to notice.

He smirks. "_Snotface_... You know you can still outrank her." He deliberately clears his throat suggestively.

"It's never going to happen," I reiterate, pulling my arms from around him. "Go home, shithead arsehole."

He groans for my benefit, even as that grin of his remains steadfast across his face. "Did your old man interrogate Newton like that?"

"No."

"Yeah?" He appears pleased by it. "He knows I'm more of a threat to you." He winks.

"God, you're up yourself."

"Don't be angry, snotface." He reaches for my hand but I yank it away.

"Stop calling me snotface. You're not ten years old anymore and you sound like an idiot," I state, indignant and past patience.

He only gauges me for a moment as his forehead steadily knots. "He was grilling me," he attempts to justify, but I don't want to hear it.

"Do you realise how embarrassed I am? Or is everything a joke to you?" I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve again and suddenly fighting to hold off the tears.

"Jesus, Bella..." he murmurs, expelling a heavy breath, then grabbing my hand he pulls me into his arms. "I'm sorry. I was freaked over that video and it just came out. I'm an insensitive prick."

"You are," I agree, resting my forehead against his shoulder as I hastily pull myself together. "I'm just...I'm still feeling weird after drinking last night," I attempt to rationalise the fact that I'm falling to pieces. Again.

"Well..." he murmurs against my hair, "since my life is forfeit and everything, you want to go have a joint in the tree house?"

I laugh, I can't help it, and pulling from his arms, I nudge him. "I still have to study," I speak to the grass beneath our feet because I'm back to this again. As soon as he turns on the charm I immediately react, and in the exact way he no doubt intends.

"Okay, but if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"Sure," I say wryly. I look up just as he hooks his elbow around my neck, pulls me toward him and plants his lips quickly to my temple.

"Get a good sleep, and remember, I'm picking you up tomorrow."

"I haven't forgotten."

**. . .**

Because of some idiot tripping the fire alarm, my History Exam started thirty minutes late. On top of which I'd left my phone at home this morning after oversleeping. Alice doesn't take History so I can't get her to contact Edward and let him know.

The exam finishes at 11:25am, and after throwing my note pad and pens roughly in my backpack, I exit the hall and head toward the carpark. I'm in such a hurry, my focus ahead of me, that I don't notice the person coming at me from the side; not until they grab my arm and almost cause me to trip over my own feet.

It's Mike.

"It's not bad enough that you slagged around on me," he seethes without letting me go even as I tug futilely against him, "but now your _boyfriend _is threatening to beat me up. You better make him stop, or I'll—"

"Or you'll _what_?!" Edward suddenly breaks in, shoving Mike so hard he releases me and almost falls over backwards. "You got a fucking problem, mate, you come to me and leave my girlfriend out of it—pathetic fucking pencil dick!"

"You better watch yourself, Cullen," Mike warns him after righting himself, only to take an immediate step back. "You know, my brother's been waiting to kick your arse."

As expected Edward laughs.

"Your _brother_?" he echoes in some kind of irony. "You going to hide behind him, are you?—whatever, he knows where I live. Tell him to come and find me."

"Maybe he will!" Mike arcs back.

"Righto," Edward replies simply, taking a step toward him as Mike all but scrambles away to maintain the distance. "Pussy." He snorts.

"Edward..." I say quietly with a sigh.

He glances down at me, taking my backpack from me and slinging it over his shoulder. "Let's go." Wrapping his arm around my shoulders he turns me in the direction of his car. "I'll see you soon, pinhead," he says to Mike over his shoulder, while I only huff.

"Are you really going to beat him up?" I ask, after he helps me into his monster truck and slides behind the wheel.

"Of course I am," Edward replies, as if it went without saying, slotting the key into the ignition.

"Why? Just because he broke up with me." I shake my head at a loss to understand.

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he yanks the gear stick into reverse. "And you call me up myself."

"What's that mean?"

"My problem with him started long before you, snotface."

"_Snotface_!" I declare, immediately annoyed. "Okay, since I won the bet, you're not allowed to call me snotface."

"What if I do?" He throws me a canny grin and reverses out

"You're not allowed to, that's how it works!"

"Is it?" he cock that smart arse brow at me, not taking me even minimally serious.

"Don't be a jerk!"

He turns to me, his grin quickly becoming a smirk. "I'll make you a deal. Give me a do-over and I won't call you snotface."

"No! You weren't supposed to all me snotface _in the first place_, you idiot!" I practically screech, exasperated.

"Touchy," he teases me, before deliberately clearing his throat. "So, Alice told me you were going to give Newton your virginity after the dance..." he says casually, while I almost die.

"_What_?!" I burst, my voice almost failing. "She told you that?" I'm horrified, and rapidly succumbing to anger. "Oh my god!"

"Yeah—when she was grilling me over _hoodwinking_ you last night. Or you hoodwinking me." He scoffs his laughter through his nose.

"I'm gonna kill her!" I declare, dragging my bag to my lap to rummage for my phone when I realise again I don't have it. "Give me your phone."

"No," he says simply, his grin broadening.

"Edward!" I warn him, and of course his laughter only increases.

"_Snotface_."

"Shithead!" I snap, folding my arms across my chest as I fume to myself. "Is nothing in my life sacred between the two of you?!"

"In her defence, she didn't mean it," Edward admits.

"Like that's the point," I grumble.

"Would you have gone through with it?" he asks after a moment.

"No!" I say sharply, because right now the idea repulses me.

"You know, I wouldn't have even let him inside," he admits, referring to the after party at his house this Saturday.

"Really?" my voice lowers in my sudden curiosity.

"_Really_."

"Why?"

"I told you, my problem with him started months before last week." His voice lowers and almost turns serious.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I ask after gauging him for a moment.

"His brother..." he flicks on his indicator to turn out of the school, "is who Lauren was screwing around with," he answers, but there's definitely an edge to his voice.

"_Oh_... So, what has it got to do with Mike?"

"The pencil dick thought he would give me shit over it." That edge in his voice reinforces and his entire expression darkens.

"He's such a dickhead," I mutter, when I pause and suddenly pull up short. "Wait!"

"...What?" He glances over at me.

"Is that why you agreed to this? To get back at him?" My voice automatically tightens, I can't help it, but Edward only snorts and rolls his eyes again as if it were ridiculous.

"I don't need an excuse to get back at him, I just need to get him alone."

"So...why now?"

"Why now, what?"

"Why are you threatening to beat him up now? You broke up with Lauren ages ago."

"Because you were going out with him, you dope!"

"_What_?" I say in disbelief, because will I ever work this guy out?

"You think I would have beaten up your boyfriend? I'm not a complete arsehole, Bella," he reminds me, putting on the charm again, and surprisingly I don't turn into a basket case.

"I know," I reply. "You're pretty sweet when you want to be," I tease him, and he smirks again. And blushes. I'm positive of it, and even as he clears his throat roughly and angles his head away from me he can't conceal it.

"What do you want to do?" he asks after a pause. "Want to celebrate?"

"I'll do that tomorrow. I still have my Chemistry exam to go."

"Want to go to the beach?"

"It's too hot. I'll fry."

"Hm...we can hang at my place," he suggests. "Hang on, Alice and Jas are there..."

"It's okay, we can hang at mine. Dad's at work and Jake's at pre-school until three."

"Where's your mum?"

"Yoga, pottery class—you name it. Monday's her day with her girlfriends."

"'Til three?" he questions.

"Thereabouts. _Why_?" I'm suddenly suspicious.

He breaks into a broad grin that can't nearly hide his guilt. "_Nothing_."

"If you molest me I'm throwing your arse out," I warn him.

"_Molest you_?" he echoes dubiously. "When have I ever done that?"

"Every day for the last seven days!" I point out.

"And yet here you are still with me..." He glances at me and winks before turning onto our street.

I only sigh, but don't reply. He just likes to mess with me, and everything I say can and will be twisted.

Edward parks his truck in the garage of his house before we make our way to mine. It's hot, in the early forties, and after opening the front door, I immediately switch on the air-conditioning from the wall control in the foyer.

"God, I hate summer," I say, tilting my head toward the vent and closing my eyes as the ice cold air flows out.

"What have you got to eat?" Edward snaps me out of it, nudging me.

"Go look," I say wryly, and as he disappears into the kitchen, I head to my room and flop down on my bed with a heavy breath. It's been an eventful week.

A minute later Edward returns, a bag of Redskins in hand and two beers.

"They're my dad's," I immediately caution him. "If he finds out—"

"My life will be forfeit?" he finishes for me, his way-too cheeky grin suggesting he's not even remotely concerned about it.

"It's your funeral."

"Since it's already forfeited, shouldn't you grant me one last wish, or something?" he arches a shrewd brow.

"Not going to happen..." I mumble with a small smile, closing my eyes.

He releases an over exaggerated breath and lays beside me, unwrapping a redskin as he does. "Here, pain in the neck." He hands it to me.

I take it from him, biting off half and swirling it in my mouth.

"That's not how you eat Redskins, you weirdo!" he teases me.

I elbow him. "It's how I eat them."

"Geez... Get over here." He opens his arm, and propping myself half up I allow him to pull me against him. "Snotface can't be your rule, by the way," he says after a moment of loudly sucking his Redskin.

"Why not?" I turn to gaze at him.

"Because it's too hard for me not to say it. Besides, I already told you, you're always going to be snotface to me." A small smile tugs on his lips even as I huff.

"It's childish," I point out.

"No, it isn't. I'm being affectionate with you, you dope!"

I half laugh sarcastically. "Sure you are."

"I am," he says simply, half shrugging a shoulder before he resumes slurping over his lolly.

I shudder. "Can you _not_?"

He smirks and shoves the rest of it in his mouth before tugging on my hair with the hand his has around my shoulders. "Happy?"

"So, why didn't you tell me about Mike?" I ask after finishing off mine.

"It's not something I like to admit."

"Too proud?" I tease him, and when I turn to him again he scoffs.

"Something like that."

"Why does his brother want to kick your arse?"

"Because I beat the crap out of him," he answers, grinning fully to himself this time.

"Oh god..."

"He fucked my girlfriend, I had no choice," is his justification while I roll my eyes.

"You could have been the bigger man and told him to enjoy your leftovers," I suggest, and he almost laughs.

"Nah...I have a reputation. I couldn't."

"What reputation?" I ask dubiously. "Getting into fights all the time?"

"Yeah..." He shrugs a shoulder as if it's inconsequential.

"Why?"

He's quiet for a moment, and just when I'm sure he's evading the question he answers, "'Cause...I'm still angry."

I turn to him. "About what?" I ask, dropping the tone of my voice seriously this time.

"My mum," he mumbles before clearing his voice awkwardly. "I miss her, Bella..."

I only gaze at him for a moment, feeling my chest begin to ache from the vulnerability that's so obviously compromising him. When Mrs Cullen died Edward completely withdrew. He showed no other emotion other than anger, and as the years progressed it began to fade, but I'm not sure he ever fully came back.

Until now.

That's when I act, and before I'm even certain of what I'm doing. Pulling myself up by my elbow, I bend down and kiss him. He runs his hand to the back of my neck, but despite the warmth and tenderness of his lips, I still pull back after a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, but for his mother or kissing him I'm not quite sure.

* * *

**Beta Note: **

Redskins are raspberry flavored chewy candies. Manufactured by Nestle and sold under their company Allen's brand. Reminds of Laffy Taffy or Air Heads here in the states.

Lyndal's other story, Vertigo, was voted 2nd place in the Twilight Recommendations Completed Fics poll for June. Yay!

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm going bush til Monday, so I'm updating early. Hope you enjoy, and thanks to Kim, Melinda and Biebs.  
xoxo**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Hoodwinked.**

I fall asleep. Against him.

I have no idea why. Maybe it's because it's been a long, stressful week with exams, and an even longer one of getting reacquainted with Edward and all his smart-arsery. Maybe because with the air-conditioning so cold Edward is as equally warm. Or maybe because I'm presently being torn apart by guilt and it's just so much easier to close my eyes against it.

Prior to Mrs Cullen's death, I was as close with Edward as I was with Alice. It was never just me and her like I've been telling myself over the last decade. Edward was always a part of "us". The paintings in the treehouse are proof of it, as are the scores of photos of my childhood that I keep in a shoebox at the bottom of my wardrobe. Photos I haven't looked at in years.

Edward was twelve when his mother died, and only months off starting high school. At the time it was easier to reconcile myself with the fact that he was growing older and away from us, but now that I think about it, I realise that wasn't the reason, at all. He pulled back suddenly after his mother's death, and I allowed him to. All my energy was spent in consoling Alice that I completely ignored him. What's evident now is he was in so much pain and he had no one. Alice was no good to anyone, his father completely distanced himself from him, and I was happy in the illusion he didn't want me around.

For the first twelve months after, Edward was stony around me, I often caught him glaring at me, and when he teased me it was with an edge of malice. He was calling me "snotface" for two years prior, and yeah, he was putting bugs down my shirt and tripping me over, but it was always from a context of childish affection; the same way I used to call him "beanstalk" and "Lankenstein". Childish affection that quickly turned to indifference the further he distanced himself from me; until it became straight out torture.

He resented me; it's the only conclusion I can make. I abandoned him when he needed me, and it took him years to forgive; if he even has.

I couldn't meet his gaze again, but this time it wasn't because he had me flustered—despite him assuming so—but because of the shame that was beginning to trickle through me. So, I fell asleep against the warmth of his chest while inside I was crying.

He likes to pretend he's fine and too thick-skinned to ever be affected by anything, but for that one brief moment his mask slipped and I saw genuine hurt behind those normally crafty eyes of his.

**. . .**

My mother wakes us up sometime after three; with coffee, and a B12 vitamin for me. I'm honestly surprised she didn't leave condoms, as well, but after a quick greeting to the two of us, she quietly leaves the room.

Swinging his long legs to the side of my bed, Edward runs his palm down his face to rouse himself before he picks up the mug closest to him and takes a sip. He groans lowly half beneath his breath and turns to glance at me; a slow grin tugging on his lips. "You are such a lightweight."

"What's that mean?" I speak to the coffee I clutch in both my hands.

He drapes a heavy arm around my shoulders and nudges me to him. "You're still recovering from Saturday night, aren't you?" Is his guess, and there's laughter in his voice.

"Yeah," I lie. I woke up this morning energised with all traces of my hangover gone.

"You said my name in your sleep, you know," he adds close to my ear, as I immediately straighten.

"I did not," I reply cynically.

He arches a dubious brow. "You reckon?"

I roll my eyes but don't bother responding.

"When are you just going to admit it?" He nudges me again.

"Admit what?"

"That you're in love with me." His eyes twinkle and that ever constant grin of his quickly overshadows his still-drowsy-from-sleep expression.

I break into a half a smile and exhale past it. "If I ever am you'll be the first to know."

"Alice think you are," he probes.

"Alice thinks you're in love with me, too."

"Hm..." He releases his arm from around me to rub his chin, as if weighing up. "Fair point."

"Besides, you told me I wasn't allowed to get all needy and attached to you," I tease him.

"I say a lot of things..." he replies, his eyes locking with mine for a pause too long.

"...What...?" I begin blankly before he flicks my forehead.

"I'm starving. Want to go eat?"

I shake my head. "I have my Chemistry exam to study for..." I murmur, my eyes falling to my carpeted floor.

"Come on..." he says with a sigh, completely dismissing me and grabbing my hand. "An hour won't hurt."

I don't bother arguing, and to be honest, I really don't want to. At this point, how I'm feeling, if he asked me to have sex right now I probably would. Guilt can be profitable, so it's probably best I don't let on too much. I wouldn't put it past him to take full advantage.

He pulls me up with him from my bed and out into the hall. "See ya, Mrs Swan." He raises his chin and smiles for the benefit of my mother who smiles back and half winks.

"By, hon," she replies before her gazes switches to me. "Let's talk later, sweetie."

"Okay." I want to groan but don't; there's something alien in my mother's tone. Something almost..._parental_.

"So, what's going on?" Edward asks, after practically giving me a leg up into his car and pulling himself into the driver's side. "You're going all virgin again."

"I am a virgin," I say with a small smile.

"If you really wanted to get rid of it you wouldn't put any conditions on it. You'd just hand it over to the _good-looking shithead_ next door." He clears his throat suggestively and in emphasis, just as I turn to stare at him in horror.

"How..._Alice_!" I burst as my face flames.

"She blabbed that out, too." He snickers.

"Christ!" I snap. Alice has no filter. Like _zero_.

"So, you think I'm good-looking?" He pointedly coughs this time as a completely self-satisfied grin forms across his face.

"I already told you I did, you idiot!" I exclaim, but I'm unusually good-natured about it; enough that Edward's brow immediately quirks.

"When?" he asks after a pause.

"In the car on the way to the movies? When you said I'm a nine out of ten—remember?" I refresh his memory.

"Ah..."

"So, are you in love with me?" I tease him. "Hm?"

"You wish," he replies with a smirk.

I scoff softly and beneath my breath. "You are so up yourself."

"The difference is, I don't refer to you as the _virgin hottie_ when you're not around."

"Huh?" I say blankly.

"When you refer to someone in those terms, it usually means you're in love with them."

"It does not," I counter. "You can acknowledge someone's good-looking without meaning you're in love with them." And let's face it, he _is_ a good-looking shithead.

"I'll make you a deal..." he proposes.

"No."

"Tell me you're in love with me and I'll take that virgin problem of yours away," he continues on regardless.

I release a semi exasperate breath. "It's _not_ a problem," I reiterate. "We had a bet and you lost—period. I'm sure Lauren will throw her legs open for you considering she's so bent out of shape over us." It comes out more passionately than I intended; something Edward notices.

"Touchy..."

"You're obsessed with me being in love with you!" I point out. "Sure Alice isn't right?"

"Oh, she's right. About you." He turns to me and winks.

I break into a full smile and shake my head. "_You_ wish."

He chuckles just barely beneath his breath, but doesn't answer.

"I wouldn't lay a finger on her again, by the way. Not even if the bitch was choking in front of me and she needed me to Heimlich her," he speaks up after a few minutes of appearing lost in thought, and there's an edge to his voice.

I turn to him; he's frowning, his expression darkening. "I don't blame you."

"She was shit in bed—lied there like a fucking corpse," he mutters more or less to himself, but I'm repulsed and more than a little tense.

"Um, okay, I didn't really want to know that."

"I used to close my eyes and pretend she was Jessica Alba." He breaks into a broad grin, and despite myself I join him.

"I remember how into her you were, and Mila Kunis."

"Yeah, I like dark eyes," he says a little too softly, and it takes a moment for it to register with me.

I gaze at him for a pause, my mind turning vacant. He's continuing to smile to himself like he usually does, but he's not giving anything away.

"Are you messing with me?" I put to him cynically.

"Not everything is about you, snotface," he replies lightly his smirk twitching broader.

I only groan to myself, but let it go.

Edward drives to the mall and drags me to the Italian restaurant off the courtyard. We find a seat outside in the shade. He orders pizza, and while I eat two slices, he finishes off the rest.

"I have no idea how you're so fit when you eat so much," I wonder out loud, but I do know, really. He's always punching that boxing bag in his room; something Renee felt the need to inform me of last night, and something I've witnessed personally through his bedroom window from my backyard.

"Good genes," he says slapping his stomach. "Bella...?"

"What?" I ask, propping my elbow on the table and resting my chin in my palm.

"What's going on?" He tilts his head as if evaluating me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.

"You're all..._compliant_."

I almost laugh, for want of a better response, anyway. "I still have no idea what you're on about."

"You haven't got all bent out of shape with me once. It's not like you."

"Do you want me to?" I tease him, making his a small smile pull on his lips.

"Yeah, I like you fighting with me."

"I know you do," I mumble wryly.

"So, why are you—geez, I don't even think there's a word for it." he mumbles.

"_Compliant_?"

"And really..._relaxed_. You tired?"

"Kinda," I shrug, breaking his gaze, because I know what he's getting at.

"You'll be done tomorrow," he points out the obvious.

"Yeah..."

"You decided what you want to do?" he asks before taking a large gulp of his coke.

"I'm going to wait to see what mark I get," I mumble.

"Teacher?" he suggests behind a cheeky grin.

"God, no," I immediately object.

"Hm..." he appears to ponder it. "Nurse?"

"I'm...not good with people," I admit awkwardly, folding my arms across the table and staring down at them.

"You're good with me," he reminds me.

"You and Alice are the only ones."

"And your old lady."

I flash him a funny look. "She's my mother."

"It's strange to see you so shy. You're such a pain in the neck, I forget."

"Very funny," I say dryly. "I was thinking, maybe...an ultrasound tech." I shrug. "I-I don't know..."

"Yeah...?" he says after scrutinising me for several moments. "How many more years of school is that?"

"Four."

"Fuck that..." he mutters, openly shuddering to himself.

"You're still going to school, as well—_TAFE_?" I raise a brow, and he shrugs a shoulder.

"Yeah, but it's for carpentry. I don't consider it school. Bella..."

"What?" I ask; he looks troubled.

"You're really acting weird."

"So, you want me to fight with you, is that it?" I ask with a sigh.

"Well, yeah. It turns me on."

"..._What_?" I utter, shaking my head to myself in complete bewilderment.

He laughs through his nose and wholly at my expense, because no matter how I respond to him he's forever a shithead; it's just who he is. "Seriously, you were okay before we crashed, and now you're..._nice_."

"Nice?" I echo. "I'm _always_ nice," I state a little too hotly, until I realise he's messing with me again. "Oh my god..."

He laughs easily. "Sure you didn't have a hot dream about me?" His brows raise suggestively while I bury my face in my hands.

"Can you stop...?" I murmur from behind them.

"Okay...but you have to kiss me."

"...What?" I remove my hands and stare at him; at a loss with him.

His eyes shoot discreetly to the side of us in emphasis; I follow his gaze to the group of people several feet away. People from my year, I quickly realise. Half of whom are gazing curiously at me and Edward.

"_He's_ not there, is he?" I ask after turning back to Edward.

"No," he replies with half a shrug. "Kiss me."

I break into an immediate smile. "You like kissing me, don't you?"

"_Yeah_," he jokes as if it's self-evident. "Plus, we need more practice, and they're all staring."

"I know..." I say with a heavy breath; it's making me uncomfortable.

He deliberately clears his throat in reminder, and with a resigned breath I lean forward over the table and meet his lips briefly.

"Can I grab your tits?" he whispers against my ear making me all but shove him backwards.

"No!" I demand in a harsh whisper. "Who does that in public even if they are..._together_?"

"Me," he admits, shrugging a shoulder, his smirk remaining behind the coke can as he finishes it off.

"I know _you_ would," I say knowingly, smiling without being fully aware of it, and something Edward immediately zeroes in on.

"Geez, all this polite shit... You really are in love with me."

I drop my brow into my hand and groan in exasperation. "Okay," I decide, glancing up at him. "Hypothetically, say I was..."

"_Hypothetically_?" he echoes, quirking a sceptical brow.

"Shut up and play along."

He grins and appears to mull it over, but it's obvious he's only humouring me. "Hm...I suppose I'd stick around for a while and see what happened."

"...What?" I ask, and I'm stumped again because that was not the answer I was expecting.

"So, let's give it six months," he adds.

"_What_?" I repeat, and he's completely lost me this time.

"Longer? Okay, twelve then."

"What are you on about?"

"You want to go out for real. I'm open." He shrugs again while I only stare at him.

"What part of _hypothetical_ don't you understand?"

"Bella... You were fully prepared to give me your virginity. I'm not an idiot. As weepy as you are it was a huge red flag."

"...I'm not..." I say weakly, becoming flustered again, and he only flashes me that completely irritating dubious brow.

"Righto..." he drawls.

"You're an arsehole!" I huff.

"Ah...she's back—thank fuck. _Nice_ snotface creeps me out."

"Edward!" I snap, past patience.

"Bella!" he imitates me.

"Okay," I say abruptly, slamming my palms to the table and getting to my feet. "I have to get home and study."

"Okay, hold your tits," he replies, rising from the chair and pulling his wallet from his back pocket. That's when I notice it; he has a picture of me in the photo pocket.

"Is that..._me_?" I ask, not quite sure what to make of it.

He gazes at me strangely, obviously unsure of my meaning, before his eyes snap to his wallet. "Well, yeah," he says as if it went without saying. "You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"

"...But...?"

"Midget gave it to me," he explains. "Come on—Geez, you're needy." He grabs my hand to pull me inside the restaurant where he pays the bill.

"Six months, and if we're no longer pretending you don't have to make bets with me," he continues his method of torture over me as we head back to the underground parking lot.

"I'm sorry I said anything," I mutter.

"Three months trial period with no sex. Final offer," he puts to me, pulling his keys from his pocket to unlock his car.

"Beating a dead horse, Edward," I say wryly, deciding not to let him bait me. I'm still feeling guilty; despite how much he's beginning to frustrate me again.

Taking my upper arm he helps me inside the passenger side, and after sliding behind the wheel, he turns to me. "I'd never give you shit over something like that." He almost sounds serious, or maybe he's completely serious but I'm just not used to it.

"Yet, you'd agree to go out with me..." I specify, arching a pointed brow; he doesn't catch on.

"Yeah, and...?"

"People usually only agree to go out with someone if they have feelings for them," I explain my meaning.

"I do have feelings for you," he says simply.

"Huh...?" This guy. He makes me feel completely clueless.

"Yeah," he breaks into a grin, "you're my snotface." He grabs my nose between his second and third finger playfully, before I shove his hand away.

"Edward, Jesus. You're confusing me!"

"How?" he asks, starting his car and reversing out.

"I...I have no bloody idea. You just are!" I burst becoming impatient.

"You're getting bent out of shape again..." he alludes, back in full smartarse mode again with his grin turning inward.

"You wanted me to!"

"I know."

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?" he turns to me, completely enjoying what he's doing to me.

"Are you messing with me?"

"What do you mean?" He feigns innocence.

"So, _hypothetically,_ you'd agree to go out with me for real if I admitted to _being in love with you_." I quote with my fingers.

"Yeah, so...?"

"But..."

"_But_..." he mocks me.

"_Why_?"

"I realised I enjoy all this pretending shit," he says, scoffing through his nose as if he were on the verge of laughter.

"Is that all?" I demand, exasperated.

"Well, no. You're a decent kisser when you're not deliberately being all virgin." He does laugh this time, not even bothering to hide it from me.

"This isn't funny—what if I was in love with you!?" I screech. "You're being a completely insensitive shithead! Christ, I can't believe I felt bad for you!"

"Bad about what?" he asks, his expression quirking with obvious curiosity.

"You! After your mother died I wasn't there for you!" I blurt out before I can stop myself, and as expected Edward's mindset immediately shifts.

Turning his attention back to the road, a frown encompasses his face. "No, you weren't..." he agrees in a quiet voice. "But you were a kid."

"I...I never realised," I confess. "You...I don't know..." I abandon it with a deep sigh, feeling helpless.

"Is that why you've been acting so weird?" he asks, his eyes focused ahead of him as his jaw clenches.

"Yeah."

"Well, don't," he says lowly.

"I'm sorry," I offer, meekly.

"I don't want any apologies, either."

"I'm still sorry," I say gently, because I am. "I just...I can't believe I just abandoned you like that."

"Bella..." he complains, releasing a hand from the steering wheel to rub his forehead with his fingertips heavily. "Stop that."

"You were angry at me."

"Bella."

"I deserved it."

"Jesus!" he explodes, turning to me. "I don't want to talk about that shit!"

"Do you forgive me?" I ask softly.

"Do you want me to throw you out?" he threatens me; though, he's not serious.

"Do you?" I press him.

He sighs audibly. "Of course I forgive you," he relents. "I don't want your pity, okay? So knock that bullshit off now."

"Okay," I mumble. "Edward...?"

"Yeah?" he says sounding suddenly exasperated.

"I'll give you a do over."

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**A/N: Flounce, review, flame... Whatever's your poison.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I was going to update on the weekend when I realised I posted early last week. Eep! Thank you to my beta and pre-readers, you know who they are if you read my author's notes. Does anyone read them, btw?  
Anywho, unlucky 13. Ooooh...**

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**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 13**

"Oh, Jesus!" Alice exclaims, laying herself on my bed and draping an over dramatised arm across her face. "Tell me again how you're not in love with him?"

She made an unexpected visit after dinner. It was Edward's idea; he told her to get a head's up with me and to find out why I'm acting so _weird_.

"I'm not..." I hesitate; it doesn't go unnoticed.

"Of course not," she says completely unconvinced as she peeks up at me. "First you offer your virginity to him through a bet, and now it's through guilt—why would I _ever_ think you're in love with him?"

"Alice..." I mumble.

"This is going to end so badly, and I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces," she adds, pulling herself upright again. "Though, considering he's my brother, I really should have seen how badly he has it for you before now."

"He doesn't..." I counter, sounding even less convincing, but it's practically inconceivable.

"You need your eyes checked, girl." She scoffs. "As sure as I know Jas is the hottest nineteen year old guy on the planet, I know my brother is in love with you."

"Please," I roll my eyes. "Edward is better looking."

"Um—excuse me?" Alice says, arching a very pointed brow just as I immediately realise my error.

"I mean—I didn't mean it like that, but come on, he's bloody handsome as sin."

"Is he...?" she drawls with over confidence, reminding me again that she's Edward's sister.

"Stop it," I say, feeling my face burn. "Did you give him a photo of me, by the way?" I ask, needing to sway her off the subject.

She tilts her head as if contemplating it. "Yeah, why?"

"I saw it in his wallet."

"He asked me for it."

"When?"

"The day you and Newton broke up."

"Ah..." I nod my head and sit beside her on my bed. "I feel bad, Alice. I mean I feel _completely_ shitty!"

"So, you offered to have sex with him..." she points out how arbitrary she obviously thinks it is.

"Yeah," I admit, releasing a deep breath.

"Hey, if you want to, I'm all on board, but please don't do it out of guilt. _Please_," she appeals to me, and I realise she's serious.

"I'm not," I assure her. "And he'll probably mess up again, anyway."

I'm not just going to give it to him without a clause. He still has to stop calling me _snotface_ and _virgin_. Plus, he can no longer mess with me about being in love with him.

She snorts dryly. "He did it once—he'll never do it again. You can count on that."

"That's what you said the first time," I remind her.

"One mistake, Bella. That's all Edward needs. God," she plants her face into an outstretched hand, "this is such a mess."

"No, it isn't!" I stand firm, convinced she's overreacting.

"He's my brother," she explains. "He'll fuck you over and then it will cause all kinds of shit between us."

"It _won't_," I promise her, while secretly praying I'm right. "It's just...how could I forget?" I declare, frustrated at myself.

"Forget what?" she asks, puzzled.

"How close we were. Christ, remember how many times we got married in your backyard?"

She breaks into an immediate smile. "I know," she muses. "You wore your Cinderella dress and he used to steal Dad's ties. I think he's always been in love with you."

"Would you stop that?" I shove her playfully. "He _isn't_."

"Bella..." she says with a degree of pity in her voice. "No guy goes to the effort Edward is unless they have some serious feelings going on. He's not messing with you. He's completely playing you into it."

"...W-what do you mean...?" I stammer after a pause; it sounds ominous.

"It's how he does things. He gets into your head until you start believing it was all your idea. His ego is too big for him to admit it, so he's trying to get you to fess up first."

"But...I don't feel that way about him..." I offer with entirely too much ambiguity, and naturally Alice only snorts.

"Nine months with Mike and you refused to have sex with him. A week with Edward and you're practically throwing it at him," she reminds me, cocking a brow and looking exactly like her bother.

"Have you been talking about this with him?!" I demand, because I really wouldn't put it past her!

"No!" she immediately asserts, sounding repulsed. "You're my best friend, he's my brother—ew!"

"Well, why is it he's said the exact same thing to me numerous times already?"

"Um, because it's kinda stark." That eyebrow again, and I only sigh. "Bella," she adds, her voice dropping with concern, "he's not that little boy he once was. It's clouding your judgement. Mum dying changed him. He's a shithead because he won't let anyone hurt him. He won't let you in."

I gauge her for a moment, processing her words. "Alice, you're contradicting yourself. One minute you're telling me he's in love with me, and the next that he won't let me in."

She sighs as if I'm frustrating her. "You can be in love with someone and not give yourself fully to them."

I shake my head convinced she has it backward. "He was with Lauren for two years, don't forget."

She gazes at me, her forehead knotting as though she can't comprehend my thought process. "Do you have any idea how many times they broke up and got back together?" I shake my head again, and she continues, "Edward was never sure about her. He was really on edge when they were together. I swear he only had her around for the regular sex."

"Alice..." I mumble awkwardly because I don't really want to hear details of his sex life. I know how many girls he's slept with and I'm okay with it, but _four_ feels like Everest when I'm stagnating on zero.

"You don't like hearing about it, do you?" he asks and while her tone is gentle, it's obvious she already knows the answer.

"Not really," I murmur breaking her gaze, "but it's more because this whole pretending thing is messing with my head—I'm just projecting," I quickly rationalise when she opened her mouth to interject.

"Projecting _what_?" she's not convinced and I realise there isn't anything I can say to her that will sway her.

I still try, though.

"You're my best friend. If I really did feel something for him I'd tell you. You know I would."

"I don't think you're even aware of it yourself, yet, but Edward is _definitely _aware. You need to know that. Get him to fess up. Don't let him play you!" she stresses, her tone becoming too impassioned. "Jesus, he treated Lauren like shit. If he does that to you, I'm going to castrate him!"

"Did he...?" I'm almost too afraid to ask. "How?"

"He was just a moody little shit—constantly."

"Edward? _Moody_?" I echo sceptically, because _moody _is not a word you could use to describe him. At least, I couldn't anyway.

"Yes. Hard to believe, I know, but he was."

"Probably because he wasn't really happy with her," I speculate, and Alice shrugs, obviously becoming disinterested.

"Maybe, I don't know. So"—she pulls herself to her feet—"should I tell him it's just guilt that's got you acting weird?"

"Yeah, but he already knows..."

"I'm not sure he believes you. He never held anything against you, Bella. You have to know that." She's serious again, and it bothers me that she's so concerned for me; that she has such little faith in her own brother.

"I know, he told me that, but it doesn't lessen anything. He was abandoned by everyone, and the worse thing is I knew. I knew he was in pain, Alice, but I pretended otherwise."

"Bella, we were ten. What could you have done?" she attempts to insert logic before wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

"Just be his friend," I mumble, gazing at the floor. "Like I'd been for years."

"It was hard for both of us. Edward just dealt with it differently. He pushed everyone away. If you attempted to force your way in you could have made him worse. He needed to make peace with it on his own."

I half shrug a shoulder and glance back up at her. "He admitted it to me on the way home."

"...Admitted what?"

"That I wasn't there for him."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"He's not holding a grudge against you or anything, is he?" Her voice tenses and I can already imagine her returning home to slap him in the head.

I shake my head again. "No, but it doesn't make me feel any better."

"Bella...?" she speaks up softly.

"What?"

"Guilt is so much easier to grasp. It's black and white. How you feel about him though? That's a whole mess of grey."

"...What...?" I begin confused, when she explains her meaning.

"I think you're clinging to guilt because it makes more sense right now."

I scoff, wanting to laugh, but I don't. "Maybe, I don't know..."

"I have an idea." Her tone brightens and she squeezes me.

"What?" I ask wryly, not sure I want to dig myself deeper into any more of her _ideas_.

"Continue on with the charade, but stop fighting him. Kiss him, fool around with him, get right into it and see if there really is something there."

"You really think...?" I let it go because she's right; I'd rather let myself wallow in guilt than even scratch the surface of what she's alluding to. "Alright..." I relent, expelling a resigned breath. "I'll think about it."

"Good!" she says chirpily. "'Kay, I'd better get going. Dad's leaving for his business trip soon—a week with the house to ourselves, don't forget." She winks. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I assure her, breaking into a warm smile.

"Call me if you start second guessing, okay?"

"Alright."

"And how good will tomorrow feel?" she says, referring to our final exam.

"God, I can't wait," I agree, allowing the excitement to momentarily overshadow whatever the hell it is that's got me so bothered.

_It's guilt, that's all_, I tell myself after Alice hugs me and leaves.

Guilt...

"Sweetie?" my mother says, poking her head around my door two seconds later. "Can I come in?"

She asks now, and I'm beginning to think it's infinitely worse than all her over-excited vicariousness. "Sure."

She sits herself beside me on my bed and takes both my hands in hers. "Okay, I've thought about it, and I think your father's right."

"Mum!" I burst, horrified by the idea of it. "I am _not_ watching that—and you can't ask Edward to, either!"

She laughs. "Oh, honey, I don't mean that. I mean, I think it's time we get you on the pill."

I pause for a moment, and release my breath in a rush of relief. "Okay..." I concede, because she's right. It is.

"Good," she adds, sounding a little surprised that I'm so willing. "Let's go then." She rises to her feet.

"What?—now?"

"_Of course_ now. I already made you an appointment."

"But...I have to study for Chemistry tomorrow," I put up a weak defensive, because I'd rather go on my own, or with Alice.

"Oh, come on." Grabbing both my hands in hers she pulls me after her. "It'll be fun."

Fun? If your idea of _fun_ is having your mother bring up your still intact hymen in the presence of strangers—albeit medical professionals—then sure, it was fun.

"Mum, no one needed to know I'm a virgin!" I burst the moment we climb in the car to go home. "I was _mortified_."

"I wanted to make sure you didn't wind up needing a pap smear, or one of those horrid pelvic exams, sweetie. Wasn't it good I was there?"

"I wouldn't need one. I'm eighteen and a bloody a _virgin_!" I cannot believe I have to keep repeating it.

"Well, you never know," she waves her hand dismissively. "Now remember what the doctor said. You need extra protection for the first month, so make sure Edward puts a raincoat on. The _pull-out_ method isn't full proof, either. How do you think you got here?"

"Please stop," I mutter, positive I'm plummeting back into Hell. "You're getting too invested again."

"My gosh, I have never seen your father go so pale in my entire life." She chuckles, completely ignoring me as she turns over the engine.

"Mum..." I complain, but let it go. If anything, I'm thankful I was born in a hospital with zero pre-birth footage of my mother making bizarre chanting sounds from deep within her diaphragm.

"You were the cutest, teeniest baby, but I am too young to be a grandmother."

"I'm old enough to know how _not_ to get myself knocked up!" I declare.

"So was I, but...here you are."

**. . .**

I notice them straight away, the instant Mum pulls onto the driveway to park her car in the garage; Dad and Edward talking in Edward's front yard. Edward has his head bowed, and in an act of comfort that looks almost alien, my father places his hand to his shoulder.

"He's no doubt got into it with his father again," my mother puts a troubled voice to my suspicions as my heart reacts to the very thought of it.

"He better not have laid a bloody finger on him," I mutter darkly as I release myself from the seatbelt and exit the car.

Edward notices me approaching. He looks up, his gaze meeting mine for half a second, before immediately turning on his heel and heading back inside. It surprises me so much I stop in my tracks, and just as my father turns to me.

"Let him go," he advises me with a weary sigh.

"What happened?" I ask, allowing him to put his arm around me and lead me back in the house.

"Carlisle got stuck into him again," he states what I already suspect.

"Did he hit him?" My voice tightens, my hands clenching into fists.

"I didn't witness anything." Squeezing my shoulder, he releases me.

I return to my room, typing a message to Edward as I do. **Are you okay?**

**Yeah. **He replies almost immediately.

**Did he hit you?**

**Yeah. **He's off, and I'm immediately fuming.

**Bastard!**

**Don't worry about it.**

**Do you want me to come over?**

**No. Study for your exam. I'll be right.**

**I can't study when I'm worried about you.**

**I'm fine.**

**I'm coming! **I insist.

**Fine, pain in the neck. **

Alice opens the door, releasing a heavy breath as she does. "He's in his room."

"What happened?" I ask, dropping my voice covertly.

She shakes her head, her brow bunching as if she's attempting to hold back her emotions. "Nothing. Edward doesn't do anything to set him off, that's the thing. Dad just can't look at him. Not with Mum's eyes staring back, anyway." Her voice softly catches, and clearing her throat roughly she turns away from me. "Talk to him, okay?"

I nod and impulsively pull her into my arms. "I will," I promise her, and it's long overdue.

I brought my books and study notes with me, and hitching the bag further up my shoulder I hesitantly knock on Edward's door. It opens two seconds later.

"Why are you knocking?" he asks, flashing me an odd look as he grabs my elbow and pulls me inside, but there's something raw about his expression. His cheekbone is red and slightly swollen; a bruise already forming. He's going to have a black eye for the formal and I'm seething.

"I'm sorry," I reply in a whisper, dropping my book bag to the floor and stretching on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck.

He lets me, for a moment anyway, before he edges me back. "Geez, you're weepy," he attempts to make light of it, but I can see straight through him; he's upset. He's _really_ upset.

"He can't keep treating you like this," I say softly, having to fight the urge to raise my hand to his injured face.

"While I'm under his roof, he thinks he can," he mutters, shrugging a shoulder with completely feigned indifference. "What's the bag for? Plan on sleeping over with me, are you?" His lips twitch with that cagey grin of his but his eyes are telling another story, and I can't stand it.

"Just—stop being such an idiot and let me hug you!" I blurt a little too hastily, before I once again pull him to me. "And you're not allowed to say it, either," I pre-empt him.

His breath shoots through his nose in muffled laughter as he tightens his arms momentarily around me. "As long as you know I'm thinking it..." he murmurs against my ear.

I shove him back playfully, and for a moment we smile at each other like we once did; when we were _buddies; _when we pretended to get married in his backyard. He breaks it all too soon, running his palm to the back of his neck and looking almost awkward. "Want a drink?" he offers.

"Yeah. With ice."

"With ice..." he echoes, and this time it's me who severs his gaze.

A week ago if anyone told me Edward would be bringing this side out in me I would have laughed, but here I am red-faced and flustered in the shithead's presence again.

What makes it infinitely worse is he's well aware of it.

He returns a few moments later carrying two glasses of coke; only one with ice.

"Here you go, your highness," he says, handing it to me.

I take it, and grabbing his free hand I pull him towards his bed. "Come sit down."

He complies, sitting himself beside me and staring at me with his forehead slightly knotted as if I'm confusing him.

"What...?" I ask, scooping a cube of ice from my drink with my fingers and placing it delicately to his cheek.

"Ow!" He immediately winces.

"Baby..." I tease him, until my I allowed my thoughts to probe deeper. "Why do you let him hit you?" I ask gently.

"What can I do?" he mumbles, his eyes breaking from mine only fleetingly.

"Defend yourself."

"I can't..."

"Why?"

"Because," he begins abruptly, before expelling a heavy breath, and starting over. "Because, I don't want Mum to be disappointed in me—where ever she is..."

"I think she'd be more disappointed in your father by the way he treats you," I reply quietly, continuing to run the rapidly melting ice over his injured face.

"That's between him and her." He sighs again and grabs my hand, taking the ice from me. He holds it in his palm, watching for several seconds as it completely melts. "If I didn't have two years to go until I get my license I'd leave, but I can't."

"...Where would you go?" I ask hesitantly.

"I don't know, but away from here," he mutters, wiping his palm dry against his shirt and looking up to meet my gaze. "What...?"

"Nothing," I mumble, shaking my head.

"You'd miss me, would you?" He nudges me and breaks into a teasing grin.

"Of course I'd miss you," I admit truthfully, dropping my gaze to the floorboards of his room. I don't like the idea of him leaving. I don't like it, at all.

Scoffing his sudden amusement through his nose, his drapes his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me. "What are you acting all weepy for? I'm not moving to Mars."

"Shut up...shithead," I mumble and he laughs.

"I'm not allowed to say it, so I won't." He deliberately clears his throat, and tightening his elbow around my neck he tugs me closer, planting his lips to the side of my head.

"You're so delusional," I reply, smiling slightly to myself.

"Sure," he drawls with self-assurance as I contemplate elbowing him. "Tell me about Alice's _idea_?" he asks before I can decide on it.

"Huh?" I pull back fractionally to meet his eyes.

"She told me earlier that you're going along with some new idea."

I huff shortly, and roll my eyes. "I never said I'd go along with anything. I said_ I'd think about it_."

"Think about what?"

"She wants me to..." I begin but abandon it. I can't exactly give him anymore ammunition.

"_To_..." he presses me.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"No."

"—ALICE!" he suddenly calls out before I clamp my palm to his mouth.

"Shut up!"

"Well, _tell me_."

"You'll get all..._you_," I attempt to explain.

"What's that mean?" he tilts his head with his grin now broad.

His door suddenly bursts open, drawing both our attention.

"_What_...?" Alice drawls, sounding annoyed and placing a hand to her hip.

"What idea is Bella going along with?" he asks her hastily as I attempt to smother him. I fail miserably of course, leaving him in laughter.

Alice sighs very deliberately, but she's unable to conceal her smile. "To relax and see if you really can make her fall in love with you."

"Alice!" I protest, because that's _not _what she suggested. Not at all.

Edward immediately straightens up as a smirk edges across his face. "Is that a challenge?"

* * *

**A/N: I was going to comment that there wasn't a single snotface this chapter, then I remembered the do-over. I am so fail.  
So, flounce/review/flame/lurk yadda, yadda, yadda...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of spoiler this week. I was crazy busy. Thanks, as always to my beta and pre-readers. You know who they are by now.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 14**

"She said I should relax and see if I have feelings for you—_not _to see if you could make me fall in love with you!" I blurt as Alice leaves the room with an over exaggerated sigh.

"Do you?" Edward asks, unable to wipe the smirk from his face.

"Do I, what?" I ask, jerking his arm from me, irritated.

"Have feelings for me."

"No!" I assert with a little bit too much fervour, before I decide to backtrack. "I mean, not like that..."

"Then how?"

"Huh?" I say blankly.

"What kind of feelings do you have for me?" he continues to press.

"I...I don't know," I answer, hesitating and becoming frustrated.

"You don't know?" he says, clearly dubious and rubbing his chin.

"I'd know if I liked you!" I insist.

"Hm..." His voice deepens, and I realise he's enjoying this.

"Stop it!" I elbow him and he laughs.

"So what did she mean by _relax_, then?" his brows raise.

"Just... I don't know," I abandon it.

"Not get bent out of shape all the time?" he concludes on his own.

"Yeah, I guess..." I mumble.

"But when I tell you that you get all screechy?"

I sigh deliberately and rein back my impatience. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you didn't torment me I wouldn't get _screechy_."

He nudges me. "You know I'm only messing with you, though. Right?"

"For the most part," I mumble, relenting and breaking into small smile.

He hangs his arm back around me. "Did you come here to _relax_ with me?"

"You have no shame," I say wryly. I realise I'm not angry by his attempts to bait me; in fact, all I feel is affection for the shithead.

And sympathy.

"What's the bag for?" he asks, nodding his head in the direction where I dropped it to the floor.

"I still have to study."

"You want me to help you, do you?" he asks sceptically.

"No. Well...were you any good at Chemistry?"

"Pretty shit." He's candid.

"You did so well in Year 10, though," I remind him.

"I had to to get an apprenticeship. Doing Year 11 and 12 was pointless. The old man forced me to stay just to spite me," he mutters, ramming his hands in his pants and momentarily frowning to himself.

"Well, considering you were hardly there..." By the time he'd finished Year 12 he'd missed so much time he didn't qualify to sit for the HSC. It was all for nothing and only served to make his father angrier at him.

He smiles to himself, his breath shooting through his nose. "Yeah... So, do you want me to?" he veers back, but to what I have no idea.

"...Want you to what...?"

"Make you fall in love with me." He smirks.

"Do you think you can?" I put to him as his brows shoot up unconvinced.

"Of course I can," he says as if it went without saying.

"So up yourself..." I mumble with a scoff just as I'm reminded of Alice's advice from a few hours earlier. "You have to admit it first."

"Admit what?"

"That you like me."

"I like you," he says simply with half a shrug.

"What?" I'm stumped again. "You like me?"

"Yeah."

"_Romantically_?"

"_Romantically_?" he echoes, snorting to himself.

"Well how else would you describe it?" I demand, impatient with him again.

He doesn't reply; he only laughs at me, not nearly attempting to conceal it.

"It's always you who pushes me to kiss you, to admit I'm in love with you, and it was you who suggested we pretend"—I quote with my fingers—"for another six months," I point out, as his smirk increases.

"So, what's your point?"

"You want me to be honest with you, you have to be honest with me."

"So, you think just because I like messing around with you I must be in love with you?" He cocks a brow with all his self-assurance, but I'm no longer convinced.

"You bugged me about taking my virginity before I bet it against you, remember?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah, so?"

"It wasn't me hassling you to take it from me."

"You offered it to me after five days."

"You promised to take care of it after one," I counter.

"I told you I wouldn't hold you to it."

"Then why did you want a do-over?" I ask without hesitation.

"'Cause," is all he replies with, shrugging a shoulder again.

"'_Cause_ why?"

"'Cause I like you," he repeats, again way too casually.

"You like me?—_how_?" I stress, becoming more and more impatient with him.

"I like hanging with you, and I'm not as against all this pretending stuff as I thought I'd be." Again it's entirely too simple.

I pause and scrutinise him for a moment; unsure whether he's being honest or he's just messing with my head—exactly how Alice warned me he would. "Do...you want to go out with me for real?"

"Don't get too ahead of yourself."

I shove him, immediately indignant. "Stop playing mind games with me!"

"What?" He laughs, and bending down I yank my book bag from the floor.

"I'm going—I have to study," I mumble, turning my back on him when he grabs my arm.

"I told you this arvo if you wanted to go out we would," he reminds me after yanking me back to face him.

"_Don't get too ahead of yourself_?" I quote him in emphasis.

"Stop trying to trap me into shit," he replies, feigning some kind of frustration while I all but balk at his audacity.

"That's exactly what you've been doing _all_ week!"

"I'm messing with you."

"Oh my god..." I mutter allowing my head to fall back. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

He once more grabs my hand, and when I turn to him for the second time he lowers his head and runs his palm awkwardly to the back of his neck. "Look..."

"What?" I grumble.

"You're completely shit at pretending with me, so why don't we just agree to go out until the farewell..." he suggests without meeting my eyes.

My mouth falls open, but I have nothing. Not a single syllable.

"That way I can bloody relax, and so can you," he adds as he pulls his gaze from the floor and fixes it to mine.

"Until the farewell...?" I utter.

"You should at least be my girlfriend if you're going to give me your virginity."

"Are you going to hold me to it?" I ask, still too dazed.

"If I think you really want me to."

"Jesus..." I almost laugh, but it's out of complete and utter bewilderment.

"What?" he asks, looking puzzled.

"Do you like me?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

"You like me—as girlfriend material?" I add sceptically.

"Have you always had such a low opinion of yourself, or is this what Newton did to you?" he puts to me, sounding almost serious, but then I'm not sure I can even tell anymore.

I stare at him for a moment, before shaking my head. "Is Alice right?"

"You tell me." His smirk pulls back into effect and I drop my head to my splayed palm.

"I...I don't know," I mumble, unsure what I'm even answering.

"You don't know if Alice is right?" That brow arches again but there's something else flooding his expression; something I can't quite pinpoint.

"Yeah...I don't know. You're confusing me again!" I admit with a huff. He constantly goes around in circles while contradicting every second thing he says. I'm honestly starting to feel dizzy.

"Why is everything with you a drama?" he mutters to himself.

"It's a drama because everything with you is...is—all over the place. You like me, you don't like me. You want to go out with me—you don't want to go out with me. Bloody hell!"

"Maybe because it pisses me off that for the last week you've been treating me like I'm going to fucking date rape you!" He suddenly sounds angry, but why I have no idea.

"Because you took every opportunity to throw my virginity in my face!" I retort, propping my hands on my hips and turning to face him squarely.

"I'm joking, you pain in the neck!" his expression begins to darken and I know I have roughly five seconds before he shoves me in the forehead and tells me to go home.

"_Joking_?" I echo. "If I started teasing you over Newton's brother fucking your girlfriend would you think it's funny?"

He hesitates, blinking several times as if he's processing it. "I..." he begins in a murmur before abandoning it and dropping his head. "Look, this is shit. Maybe you should go."

"_What_?" I utter in complete disbelief. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're being a fucking kid and you're pissing me off," he snaps, immediately glancing back up at me.

"So are you, and you're older than me," I reply stubbornly. "I figured out what I want."

"_What_?" he asks blankly as his forehead knots.

"I won the last bet, so I figured out what I want."

"What do you want?" He rolls his eyes.

"You have to be honest with me."

"Honest?" he repeats in obvious frustration as he reefs his hand rigidly back through his hair. "I _have_ been honest with you. What part of _I like you_ don't you understand?"

"You like me...?" I continue to question, unconvinced.

"Of course I like you," he repeats, glaring at me, "have I ever given you the impression I don't?"

"_How_ do you like me!?" I suddenly yell, losing patience with him and my inability to understand him, when without warning, his bedroom door suddenly bursts open.

"Will you two just fuck each other and get it over with—Jesus!" Alice bursts. "I'm trying to study, here!"

"Alice..." I begin when she immediately cuts me off.

"Bella, in the space of a week you've offered to have sex with him twice—and you." She turns her attention to Edward. "You've loved her since the beginning of time."

"Get real," Edward mutters dropping his head to run his palm along the back of his neck again, but this time his face is completely clouding.

"Really...?" I ask him, but I'm not sure of anything anymore.

He turns his head to set his eyes on me; they narrow. "You still can't even tell me why you want to have sex with me," he accuses me.

"Because she loves you, too, but you've thrown her upside down with all your _snotface_ bullshit. Jesus, Edward, most guys grew out of that by the time they got their first pubes."

"Shut the fuck up, Alice!" he threatens her, for the first time looking genuinely angry.

"Who's going to admit it first? Hm?" she continues, completely ignoring him. "Bella?" Her brows raise.

"I...I..." I stammer, gazing from her to Edward as I shake my head.

"She can't handle this pretending bullshit, that's obvious enough. She throws a fit after five minutes around me," Edward starts to rant.

"Because you give her shit, you idiot, and she's not ten anymore," Alice speaks up in my defence.

"I'm not serious," he counters.

"She thinks you're the best looking guy on the planet," Alice informs him as my heart stalls.

Edward, of course, only breaks into an immediate smirk.

"Alice!" I protest, elbowing him from a purely pre-emptive stance. "I never said that!"

"Please," she scoffs, "I said Jas was the best looking guy in the world, and you immediately turned around and said Edward was."

"I am," the shithead pipes up, before attempting to wrap his arm around my shoulders.

I shrug him off.

"Maybe before you broke your nose fighting, pretty boy!" Alice retorts with a snort.

"I got it fixed."

"I have to go home," I say with a heavy sigh, but it's Alice this time who stops me.

"The two of you kissed for ten minutes straight in the cinema Friday night, and then Saturday—"

"You saw us?" I break in, mortified.

"Me and Jas were right behind you—anyway, my point is, you kissed like that, had one fight and then all of a sudden you're making a bet to have sex. And then Saturday morning I walk in on the two of you half naked and _front_ _spooning_!"

"Habit..." Edward scoffs as if it were inconsequential.

"Habit my left foot. I never saw you holding Lauren like that."

"So you shouldn't have!" he replies.

"I gotta go..." I attempt a second time to leave, but I don't take a single step. I can't.

"He lost the bet and the _next day_ you give him a second chance," Alice turns her tirade square on me. "Jesus, Bella, just admit you want to have sex with him."

"Of course she does," Edward says simply.

"So do you!" is my feeble defence.

"I'm not disputing it!"

"Arsehole!"

"The sexual tension in here is so thick it's bloody choking me!" Alice mutters, rolling her eyes.

"I'd be okay if he wasn't always tormenting me!" I speak up in defence of myself, but Alice isn't remotely convinced, and either is Edward.

"Bella, you're not nearly as angry as you make out half the time," she reminds me.

"I knew it!" Edward replies grinning to himself smugly.

"Shut up, you idiot," Alice snaps at him. "You love her just as much, so the two of you, either get it out of your system or go argue somewhere else. You know I'm terrible at chemistry!" And with that said, she leaves in the same whirlwind, slamming the door behind her as she does.

I move to follow her, but Edward tightens his grip on my hand, keeping me beside him.

"Fine, we'll go out for real until after the farewell!" I blurt, attempting to yank my hand free from him.

"Is that all?"

I turn to him; he raises his brows to further stress his point, but his grin is grating on my last nerve. "What else do you want?" I demand.

"Is Alice right?"

"You first."

"Nope."

"Yes—I won the bet."

"You told me I had to be honest, and I was. So, tell me, Bella."

"I—I don't know what I feel about you," I blurt in frustration. "I just know it's confusing me." I'm honest this time.

He ponders it for a moment and shrugs a shoulder. "Okay, so what do you want to do?"

"I don't know..." I murmur, my eyes falling to his clothes-strewn floor.

"We can pretend or be real. It's up to you."

"What do you want to do?" I mumble, my gaze fixed below me.

"I can handle either without freaking out. You can't though—would you look at me!" He suddenly huffs; I do reluctantly.

"I said we'll be real," I say a little too abruptly.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Think about it."

"I don't need to."

"Bella..."

"What?" I complain, rubbing at my forehead in frustration.

"Are you sure?" He removes my hand from my face, his voice softening. And not only do I realis he's being serious, but sincere.

I nod slowly. "Just..."

"Just...?"

"Don't rush me."

His brow quirks. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not a free pass to feel me up whenever you feel like it."

He laughs, pushing it quickly through his nose as a half arsed attempt to smother it. "You just have to keep communication open with me. And no getting screechy."

"No snotface."

"Okay..." he agrees easily. "Is the bet still on?"

"Yeah," I admit, chewing on my bottom lip. A fire is suddenly lit in my stomach and I'm beginning to feel queasy.

"What?" Edward asks, picking up on it.

"Is it really going to be...real?"

"Yeah," he says simply.

"So...Alice's is right about us?" I ask and he shrugs a shoulder again.

"She's probably on the right track," he replies, smiling slightly to himself. "Maybe we should put it to a test."

"How do you mean?"

"Tomorrow when I get home, I'll take you out to dinner. On a real date."

I nod, breaking into a small smile. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I only nod a second time as my eyes inevitably drop to his floor again. "So after the farewell?"

"That depends."

"On what?" I glance up at him momentarily, before my eyes catch the busty blonde on his computer screen saver.

"On whether you want me to make you fall in love with me."

I scoff to myself and break into a reluctant grin. "You're pretty confident."

"Why wouldn't I be?" His smile broadens with mine.

I scoff a second time and shake my head. "Okay, I might go study with Alice."

"Righto. Come and get me before you go home."

"I will," I reply in a small voice, unable to maintain eye contact with him as I turn and exit his room.

By the time I enter Alice's my hands are shaking and my stomach is a mass of nerves.

"So, what did you decide," she asks with a knowing smirk, looking up from her text book.

"No more pretending. For a little while," I murmur, processing it myself as I do. I'm nervous as hell but there's something else. I think it's anticipation, but it could be nausea.

"For a little while?" she echoes, her brow raising sceptically

"Until after the farewell," I drop down to her bed and pull my books from my bag.

"What's that mean?" she asks, sounding more irritated than she does confused.

"One day at a time, I think." Because I'm not entirely sure what it means, myself.

"Is it so hard to just tell him you want to fuck his brains out?" she puts to me.

"Um, yes, actually."

"Whose idea was it?" she sighs.

"His."

"I knew it," she mumbles, focusing her attention back to her open book. "You happy?"

"I think so..." I mumble, opening my own book and placing it in my lap.

"You think so?" she repeats, glancing up at me with her eyebrows drawing.

"It'll be easier than pretending. At least now I'll know where the boundaries are."

She sighs with complete over exaggeration. "That is _not_ why two people decide to go out."

"Alice..." I complain but let it go, I still have no idea what I'm thinking, let alone doing. "Let's just study."

"Want my advice?" she asks after a several moments of silence.

"No," I say, smiling to myself.

"Why not?" she bursts sounding affronted.

"Because your _advice_ is always wrong."

"How so?"

"Vow of silence?" I remind her.

She snorts. "Okay, _once_."

"You said he would never admit to having feelings for me, and he did. Pretty easily."

She places her pen down and gazes at me for a moment, her entire expression flooding with doubt. "He told you he likes you?"

"Yeah."

"He said 'I like you Bella, let's go out for real'?" she presses me.

"Well...not in those exact words."

"Explain to me how it came up."

"He...he suggested we should just stop pretending."

"Why?"

"So we can both relax."

"So, you asked him whether he likes you, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he said...?"

"He said he did."

"Did he expand on it?"

"...How do you mean?" I ask, my frayed emotions succumbing to confusion.

"Did you ask him whether he likes you as a friend, or more than a friend?"

"Yeah..." I murmur, sighing in defeat to myself, because I realise now what Alice is getting at.

"What did he say?"

"He didn't answer..." I reply reluctantly.

She clears her throat deliberately, stressing her point and in response I drop my head to my palm and groan.

"So, he's playing me?" I demand, my voice rising. "That shithead!"

"Of course he's not playing you. He's just being very careful."

"_Why_? Why can't he say it?"

"Have you admitted it?" she subtly points out, and I sigh heavily and in complete exasperation.

"I...I don't know what I feel, exactly."

"Sure, Bella..." she mutters with an eye roll.

"I'm not lying."

"You're in denial."

"Even if I did—why does it have to be me!?" I snap a little too loudly.

"You've always had to read between the lines with Edward. That's just the way he is. You know that," she says, shrugging her shoulders offhandedly, and she's right; I do.

"But still!" I snap. I'm suddenly irritated, and lunging from the bed I head for the door when Alice grabs hold of my hand.

"What are you doing?" she declares as if she thinks I've gone mad.

"I'm going to tell him to stop being such a bloody coward!"

She takes a short, brash-sounding breath and half shakes her head. "So, you honestly think forcing him to confront his pride will make him open up to you? You'll piss him off and make him close further up, and nothing else."

I fume to myself for a moment, but realising she's right, I relent and allow her to pull me back to the bed. "I have no idea what I'm doing with him..." I admit more or less to myself in complete defeat.

"You know him more than anyone, Bella—more than me," she says gently. "You just have to learn to read his cues better, that's all."

"Read his cues..." I echo, mulling it over. "Why does he have to be so...so _stubborn_?" I burst, impatient with myself as well as him.

"You both are," she says, scoffing her breath through her nose. "You can't get angry at him for not being completely honest with you when you're not being honest with him."

"I have been honest. I have no idea how I feel!" I insist, frustrated that she's making me constantly repeat myself.

And like her brother, she only quirks a completely dismissive brow at me. "Would you go home and study? You're throwing me off," she teases me after a moment.

"Fine!" I say begrudgingly, grabbing my books and throwing my bag over my shoulder. "See you in the morning."

"Bye," she says simply, smiling subtly to herself.

I run into Edward in the hall, in the opposite direction of his room.

"Where are you going?"

"Home?" I reply without looking at him.

"What are you bitching about now?"

"_Nothing_!" I say a little too sharply.

"Jesus," he mutters. "I thought we were meant to be relaxing now?"

I shake my head, but allow my thoughts to calm. "Alice..." I say by way of explanation.

"She giving you shit?"

"Not exactly," I mumble, because all she'd been was a voice of reason in my turbulent mind.

"So...you were going to leave without saying goodbye?" he puts to me, raising his eyebrows when I gaze up at him.

"No... I mean, I wasn't really thinking."

"Come on," he says with a sigh, wrapping his arm around me and leading me toward the front entrance.

He stands before me for a few moments, his hands pushed into the pockets of his shorts as a smile begins to twitch at his lips.

"What?" I ask, feeling my cheeks flame self-consciously.

"You. You've gone all shy, and..." he doesn't elaborate but it isn't hard to guess what.

"And virgin?"

"I never said that."

I roll my eyes, but I'm glad for his banter. It's constant and comfortable; not that I'd ever tell him that.

"Edward...?" I ask the tiles of his porch.

"Yeah."

"Do you like me as more than a friend?"

He immediately groans. "This again..."

"You never answered," I point out, looking up at him briefly.

"Either did you," he counters.

"I'm not sure..." I don't finish because I'm not even sure about what I'm not sure about anymore.

"You think I am?"

"Yeah...I know..." I give it up. If Alice is right then he's not going to admit it to me easily.

"So, what's the problem?" He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of my hair off my face where the breeze carried it.

"Nothing..."

"Nothing," he echoes to himself.

"Don't tease me."

"You think I'm messing with you?" His voice drops, lowly.

"No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I...I just don't like feeling like I'm in limbo," I say a little too passionately as Edward's brow knots in obvious confusion. Or maybe exasperation.

"I thought this way we wouldn't be in limbo."

"Alice is right about me," I blurt out without really realising it.

"Yeah?" That smirk of his lights up on his face again and I nudge him.

"Not about that."

"Then about what?"

"I can't have casual sex..." I answer, my eyes dropping to the ground again while inside I want to shrivel up and die.

"Who says we'd have casual sex?—geez would you look at me?" Sliding his fingers under my chin, he guides my eyes back to his.

"I just mean...I have to be...comfortable."

He sighs very deliberately and groans softly to himself. "For the next week we're no longer pretending. I thought we'd already established that."

I gaze at him for a pause before expelling my breath. "Never mind..."

"What's going on?" he asks curiously. "You changed your mind?"

"No."

"Just overthinking shit again?" he says lightly, and in response I break into a reluctant smile.

"Yeah."

"Geez, you're a pain in the neck." Removing his hands from his pockets he wraps his arms around me and pulls me flush against him.

I close my eyes for a moment and take in that spicy scent of him. "You want me to tell you first, don't you?" I mumble against his shirt.

"Tell me what first?" he murmurs.

"That I like you."

"Do you like me?"

"You already know I do."

"Yeah," he says simply as his breath shoots from his nose, "I do."

"I'm just..." I begin but once more abandon it.

"You just...what?"

"If it's just a week, what's the point? We're better off pretending."

He pauses for a moment, then releases the air from his lungs as if I'm exhausting him. "Just relax for this week, okay?" He leans his chin to the top of my head. "You think too much."

"It's real though, right?" I ask, pulling back to meet his gaze.

"Of course it's real."

"Okay," I mumble, as my thoughts continue to stray until I'm more confused than anything.

"We'll just see how this week goes. I have no way of knowing how you're going to react to me, yet," he says, releasing his arms from around me.

"I'll be fine," I insist stubbornly.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

I huff, frustrated with him again. "You were right, okay? Pretending made me screechy. It's better this way, so stop teasing me!"

He smiles, fighting the obvious urge to laugh, but doesn't say anything.

"Okay, I'd better get going. I still haven't finished studying."

"Okay," he says simply, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

I hesitate, glancing up at him; I'm convinced he's playing mind games with me.

"See ya," I mumble, deciding it's best not to analyse anything further. Then turning my back on him, I move to take a step but again he reaches out and grabs my arm; pulling me back to him.

"Where are you going?" he puts to me with a small grin.

Relenting, I break into a smile along with him, and stretching up on my toes I plant my lips to his.

He doesn't release me as quickly, this time. He kisses me back the same way he did in the cinema, only he's not as hesitant and careful with me. I realise he's being conscious to prevent his tongue from colliding with mine, but he's suddenly responding to me in a way that begins to scare me. It scares me because I'm already losing my head. Edward is the sort of person I have to stay level-headed around or I'll quite easily follow him into purgatory.

* * *

**A/N: Oy vey, these two. Talk about round and round the mulberry bush. Anywho, you know the drill... **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I have been completely shit at thanking reviewers the last 2 weeks. I don't mean to be; I'm just crazy busy right now. Just know that I read them all and I appreciate every one. And for letting me know it's been rec'ed at A Different Forest. That made me smile.  
Anyway, a much needed reprieve from these two...**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 15**

My Chemistry exam comes and goes and with it the completion of my HSC. It feels so surreal and a rush of relief at the same time. It's also the first time in too many hours that my thoughts haven't been centred on Edward.

I still have no idea what I feel. Or as Alice is convinced, I still can't admit what I feel. Edward's right; she's on the right track, so I can only conclude it's somewhere in between. My feelings for her brother, I mean.

What I can accept is that I've always had a certain affinity with him; something that's steadily progressing into...something. I'm almost positive it's attraction. Or more accurately, sexual attraction since I've always been aware of what a good looking shithead he is. He's still the one and only male on the planet I can relax around and laugh with. He will always drive me nuts, but it doesn't lessen the comfort I feel around him. I also really do enjoy messing around with him, and if the night before is anything to go by, I'm warming up to the idea of more with each passing minute.

What all this means exactly I haven't quite worked out. It's enough to go out with him, for real, and that's where I'm leaving it. That's my official starting point.

My exam finishes at twelve, and after going for a celebratory iced-coffee with Alice I head home and sleep. I barely got a wink of it last night and I want to be clearheaded when I'm out with Edward. He can so easily make me lose my head, and that's what worries me most. I always assumed I'd be safe from the effects of a handsome face; I just never took into account that one day that handsome face would belong to him.

He texts me just after he arrives home from work, letting me know he'll pick me up at six. And to wear my cozies. I assume he's taking me to the beach. I'm usually not pro about swimming in the ocean—not since I almost drowned when I was twelve—but considering how hot it's been I'm willing to make an exception.

He arrives right on time looking well put together and smelling just as nice. He's not wearing his board shorts, so I'm slightly confused. He greets my mother and shakes my father's hand; who only scowls down at him with continued mistrust before I arrive to save him.

"Hey," he says in greeting, his eyes dipping discreetly to inspect me. I'd thrown a beach dress over my bikini. It's hot and I'm revealing a lot of skin; something my father clearly disapproves of.

"Hey," I mumble, placing my hand in his after he reaches for it.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply, and after a quick farewell to my parents, I pull him outside and away from the awkwardness of their close attention. Charlie's is bad enough but Renee's is worse. The night before, while still completely under the effects of Edward's kiss, I revealed a little too much to her. She practically erupted with pride and promised to celebrate my approaching _womanhood _with me; I've been forced to avoid her ever since.

"So where are we going?" I ask as he leads me in the direction of his car.

"I thought we could drive to the beach and get fish and chips," he says casually, opening the car door for me and giving me a lift up into it.

"Sounds good," I say simply.

"So, your old man still hates me," he speaks up five minutes into the trip with more than obvious amusement laced in his voice.

"He doesn't," I assure him.

"Yeah, he does, but that's okay. I'd hate me too if you were my daughter."

"Pray you never have a daughter like me, then."

He laughs lightly. "So, you pretty pumped about finishing your exams?"

"Relieved more than anything. Now I have to stress about my results."

"All those straight A's of yours? You'll be fine."

"I don't get straight A's," I contradict him, and he scoffs.

"You got more than me. You still have to fight with me, by the way?" he changes course, and just when he was making sense.

"You like me fighting with you?" I put to him dubiously.

"It's too weird when you're all polite and timid. You don't take my shit. I like that." He scoffs back a grin, and in response I break into a smile.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"So, what are you going to do for the rest of the week?"

"Relax."

"Hm... You going partying Friday night? End of exam parties are pretty huge."

"Alice wants to go to a few."

"It means you have to take me, though. You know that, right?"

I sigh good-naturedly. "I do know how going out with someone works, you know."

"Just making sure."

"Where's your cozies?" I ask after a moment of silence. He's smiling to himself and I have absolutely no idea what's going through his mind.

"In the back seat," he motions behind us with a tilt of his head.

"Why aren't you wearing them?"

"I don't know..." He glances at me strangely. "You're uptight—why?"

"I'm fine," I counter.

"You're not going to get bent out of shape over this, are you?"

"Over what?"

"Us."

"I'm _fine_," I insist. "Alice suggested I continue to act as if we're still pretending."

"Hm..." his smile broadens. "Midget has her uses."

"When did you realise you liked me?" I ask rather slyly—another one of Alice's suggestions. To get him to fess up.

"What?" He arches a cynical brow. "Why are you still trying to trap me into shit?"

"Alice is pretty convinced," I point out my reasoning.

"Alice thinks Jas is some kind of god, too." He snorts to himself, and I laugh.

"Well, he's not ugly."

"He's a girl."

"What's wrong with being a girl?" I protest.

"Nothing, if you actually are one."

I only release a conceding breath and shake my head.

"Isn't it enough that I like you now?" he says after a moment.

"...Do you?" I ask, unsure I'm understanding him correctly.

"I don't usually go out with girls I don't like," he replies.

"You're not..." I begin but abandon it.

"I'm _not_..." he coaxes me to elaborate.

"You're not doing this because you know it'll piss off Mike, are you?" I ask with too much uncertainty.

He holds my gaze for a pause and I watch as his forehead knots. "You asked me that yesterday," he reminds me.

"I know..." I murmur, lowering my gaze.

"Just pretending pissed him off, so why would I need to get further invested if that was my only motive?" he points out.

"Yeah, I know," I acknowledge with a frustrated sigh. "I just..."

"You _just_," he over-emphasises and he suddenly sounds as equally frustrated.

"I dunno..."

"You know what I think?" he asks after a moment of gauging at me.

"What?"

"Going out with that limp dick has made you doubt yourself."

I laugh without humour. "Probably."

"But then you were always pretty shy..."

"I know." I shrug again.

"I have no idea why..." he muses as if he were speaking it to himself.

"It's just who I am."

"Yeah, but it makes no sense."

"...Why?" I probe unsure of his meaning.

"Because you're hot," he says simply—too simply," and hot girls are usually aware of it."

I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I have no words. "Are you messing with me?" I eventually ask, and it's frustrating that he's so hard to gauge. He's a bloody enigma is closer to the truth.

He scoffs out of some kind of irony. "Why would I be messing with you?"

"Because..." For the second time I have nothing, and with an exaggerated sigh I let it go.

"Jesus..." he mutters and I'm still not sure of his meaning. "Tell me I'm hot."

"What?" I ask blankly.

"Tell me I'm hot," he repeats himself.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"No—god you're up yourself."

"I'm trying to make a point, you pain in the neck!"

"Fine—you're hot," I relent.

"I know," he says casually.

"_What_?" He's completely confusing me.

"That's how you're supposed to react.

"No you're not. You're supposed to say 'thank you', or something _modest_."

He shrugs. "You never said that, either. You thought I was messing with you. Exactly what kind of arsehole do you think I am?" he concludes, and he almost sounds serious.

"One who humiliates me on Facebook where everyone in my school can see," I remind him and he deliberately expels his breath.

"Geez, you're not still pissed off about that, are you?"

"It was completely shitty. No matter how angry I was at you, I'd never do anything so malicious."

"_Malicious_..." he echoes as if he thinks I'm over reacting. "Okay, what do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"Let me think about it," I say, breaking into a subtle smile.

He scrutinises me suspiciously for a moment. "I think _you're_ messing with _me_."

"I should. You deserve a dose of your own medicine," I say, and in reply he only grins to himself; all too sure of himself.

"You still screwing around with your boss's daughter?" I ask after another lapse of silence. I find it surprisingly comfortable to sit with him without exchanging words.

"Nah," he replies, his lips twitching discreetly as if he's well aware I'm maladjusted over it. "She's pregnant last I heard."

"_What!_?" I burst, immediately horrified.

He glances at me oddly until he obviously grasps my meaning. He rolls his eyes. "It's not mine."

"You sure."

"Positive."

"How?" I press, unconvinced.

"I was messing around with her two years ago, that's why," he admits. "Jesus, Bella, I do know who to strap a condom on, you know."

"Why were you messing around with her?" I mumble as a cover for my sudden discomfort.

"She offered it," he replies, shrugging a shoulder.

"I mean, why didn't you just go out with her?" I clarify my meaning.

"She did nothing for me." Again his answers are too cavalier.

"But you were having sex with her," I point out the obvious.

"Yeah. So...?"

I scrutinise him for a moment, attempting again to figure him out. I fail. "You're such a slut!"

"Slut?" he echoes as if it's ridiculous. "You forgetting you offered it to me, as well?"

He's stumped me. Again. And in response, I only open and close my mouth in silence, feeling like a complete idiot.

He chuckles. "Bella, seriously, you need to lighten up."

"I just...I can't have casual sex," I offer as some kind of explanation; something that only makes me feel infinitely worse.

His breath shoots from his nose as though he were on the verge of full laughter. "I know. You already told me."

"You're an arsehole!" I snap, and by this point I'm a lost cause.

He does laugh this time before reining it back in. "You can't do that, either."

"Do what?"

"Get all jealous about girls I was with before you."

"_I'm not jealous_!" I blurt affronted.

"Sure you're not..." he drawls.

I huff, but we both know he's right. "Fine..." I mutter.

"Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it will cause all kinds of shit."

"Huh?" I reply vacantly, wondering whether he's deliberately being cryptic.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he elaborates with that smirk of his tugging on his lips. "Just don't get all fixated on it."

"Will you seriously get over yourself!" I snap, past patience with him, and naturally he only laughs. I wonder whether he's even capable of taking me seriously.

"What beach?" he asks after several moments of grinning with completely frustrating self-satisfaction.

"What?"

"Bulli, Port Kembla...?" He raises his eyebrows,

"Oh." I shrug. "I don't mind."

He drives to Bulli, and after parking at the main beach lot, he reaches into the back seat and grabs his swimmers and a towel. Then, after pulling himself from his car and draping both of them over his shoulder, he holds his hand out to me; I take it easily, but I'm starting to feel everything but easy. I'm not even sure why.

"I don't have a towel," I say.

"It's okay. Mine's big enough for the both of us," he replies, tugging me in the direction of the several fast food kiosks.

He orders a batch of hot chips, a dozen crumbed calamari, a hamburger—for him—and a small serving of battered white fish for me. Then after grabbing two cokes, he takes our paper-wrapped dinner and we find a place to eat on the beach.

With two hours until sunset, it's still incredibly warm and humid. The sea-breeze is relatively mild, but it sweeps over us damp and salty, quickly making us both sticky. Edward spends as much time removing strands of my hair away from my face as he does gorging himself on chips.

I graze slowly on my meal, my stomach steadily amassing with nervousness. Edward continually pushed the boundaries with me when we were pretending, but now that we're official... Or at least attempting to be official.

"What's going on?" he asks after several minutes of obviously noting my distraction while offering me a half-eaten chip.

"Nothing..." I say, shaking my head and gazing toward the cargo ship dotting on the edge of the horizon.

"You're not looking at me again," he adds.

"Am I supposed to?" I put to him, meeting his eyes for half a second before mine once more pull out over the ocean.

"Bella..." he says with a heavy sigh. "I've known you long enough to know when you start acting off."

"I'm fine. Stop pushing me," I say with a small smile, shoving my elbow into his side.

"Yeah, righto," he mutters.

"It's new and weird, so of course I'm going to act _off_," I further explain, taking the chip he offers this time and munching on it.

"What's weird?" He sounds offended.

"You and me," I state the obvious.

"How is it weird?" He's unconvinced, and I only raise an eyebrow before laughing lightly.

"It just is," I say simply.

He releases a breath in answer and takes a bite of his burger, and for the next several seconds I watch him eat. Until he notices.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"You like me, right...?" I ask hesitantly.

He sighs deliberately this time. "Yeah. You like me too, don't you?"

"You already know the answer to that," I say dryly.

"Say it anyway."

"I like you too," I tease him, and he breaks into a smile.

"You're right, I know."

I nudge him teasingly. "Stop being a cocky jerk."

He laughs for a moment before taking another bite of his burger. "Would you get to the point," he says after swallowing.

"Huh."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Oh..." I say, quickly recalling. "If you like me why do you only want to be real for a week?" I break his gaze again, staring down at my hands self-consciously this time.

"I _already_ told you." He sounds almost exasperated. "Because, I have to see if it can work."

"What does that...?" I begin but abandon it, because I already know his meaning. He's not sure if I can handle it. Or, more accurately, _him_. Handle him without completely overreacting, anyway.

To be honest, I'm not even sure myself.

He doesn't answer. We understand each other in that retrospect, at least. Instead he drops his hand to my knee, his fingers probing absently as he his gaze follows.

"Bella...?" he speaks up after a long pause.

"Hm?" I reply, grabbing his hand when he begins to inch it a little too further down my thigh.

"I'm sorry," he says, and it's clearly not for his over adventurous fingers.

I glance over to him, confused. "Why?"

"For giving you so much shit. I didn't realise..."

"...Release what?"

"That you... I mean, that it meant something... To you."

I shake my head, conveying my confusing. "I don't..."

Before I can finish he leans in and kisses me. He kisses me the same way he did last night; in a way I understand is something I now have to expect. In fact, he's kissing me the same way Mike once did. At least the way Mike had once aspired to but failed in every sense of the word. Because he's kissing me in a way that makes my heart race in both anticipation and fear. There's a definite purpose to it; one I realise I am all too willing to explore.

His lips are salty with both the ocean breeze and the tang of fish and chips against mine. They're supple but firm and as he continues to kiss me, they begin to burn. Until I realise it's his tongue, and that's when I pull back.

"Sorry!" I blurt out on impulse and the moment that smirk edges on his lips.

"It's okay," he replies, the timbre of his voice almost rustic, but his smile doesn't wane.

"What were you saying...?" I mumble after several moments of staring down at the sand beneath us in both mortification and flustered upheaval.

"Hm..." He appears to contemplate it. "Doesn't matter," he decides, picking up a ring of crumbed calamari and bringing it to my lips.

I take it from him and nibble it, knowing my cheeks are flushing as rapidly as his grin is broadening. "You didn't kiss me like that when we were pretending..." I speak to my bare feet

"Because I was only pretending," he replies casually. "I'm not anymore. Actually..."

I turn to fully face him, my head tilting with more uncertainty. "...What?"

"I wasn't pretending. I was holding myself back."

I move to shake my head but stop myself as I gaze into his eyes unsure I'm even hearing him correctly anymore. "You're confusing me, Edward," I relay with an edge of frustration.

He smiles again, fully amused at my expense. "I'm not holding back any more."

"Okay, but...hold back a little bit," I appeal to him, feeling the need to emphasise my inexperience while remaining conscious of it at the same time.

He laughs once more, almost sarcastically. "You think I'm a real arsehole, don't you?"

"No—of course I don't," I insist. "I just...I think you forget sometimes that I'm..."

"A virgin?" he pre-empts me. "How could I forget?"

"Then...what do you mean _not holding back_?" I'm not even sure what_ I_ mean, let alone him.

He shrugs both shoulders and turns momentarily to gaze out over the ocean. "I'm kissing you the way I've always wanted to."

"...The way you always..." I begin in complete and utter confusion when he clamps his hand over my mouth.

"Jesus, will you shut up," he mutters. "You want to go for a swim?"

"Don't we have to wait a half hour, or something?" I point out when he releases me.

"Come on..." He rolls his eyes, and grabbing his board shorts and towel he pulls himself to his feet.

I gather the rubbish from our meal and stuff it in the plastic bag it came in. Then slipping my feet back into my thongs, I take Edward's outstretched hand. We stop to offload the rubbish in the bin when Edward pulls me in the opposite direction from where I'm expecting.

"Where are we going?" I ask, motioning to the lap pool on the edge of the ocean where several people are already swimming.

"Too crowded," is all he offers in explanation.

We walk to the northern most point of the beach when Edward leads me up to the jagged rock pools that gradually rise into the cliff face.

"Where are we going?" I repeat the same question curiously, just as it suddenly becomes obvious.

Among a collection of small naturally forming pools in the rock is a larger one, an enclosed cove at least twenty feet in diameter with a sandy bottom. It's high tide and the depth looks at least five feet.

"Is it safe to swim in there?" I ask, staring down at the water ambiguously as waves intermittently break into it.

Edward snorts and pulls his shirt over his head before kicking his shoes off. "What do you think is in there—Jaws?" he teases me.

I shove him in retaliation. "A stone fish, or _you know_, a blue-ringed octopus."

He rolls his eyes, and before I can question him he unzips his jeans. "Stop being such a wuss."

"What are you doing!?" I exclaim, immediately averting my gaze.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he replies all but laughing at me, and out of my periphery, I watch as he discards his jeans down to his underwear, and pulls on his cozies.

"Couldn't you have just worn them?" I attempt to explain away my flustered state.

He smirks. "I don't want to wear them home wet. You just gonna stand there?"

With a loud sigh I strip off my beach dress, and just as I drop it to the ground, and contemplate being self-conscious over it, Edward scoops me up in his arms and leaps into the body of water.

We go completely under before resurfacing, with me clinging to him.

"It's too deep," I say a little too anxiously. Despite being forced into swimming lessons until the age of thirteen, I've never been a confident swimmer. I suppose it didn't help having a near death incident at Cronulla beach six years ago.

It was roughly a year after Mrs Cullen's death. My mother had taken the three of us, and Alice and I, like we too often did, blindly trailed after Edward. I naively followed him too far out and then panicked. Despite his efforts to keep me above the water, I kept dragging the two of us under. He'd flagged down a lifeguard and laughed at me over it for the rest of the day. I ended up in hospital later that night with sea water on my lungs, and it was only for that reason that his jibes stopped.

"Hang on, I'll find somewhere shallow," he replies, inching closer to the edge where our clothes are strewn over the rock.

When the water dips to his mid-chest, I place my feet to the sandy bottom below and release him. This is when I can finally relax. It's lukewarm but still a relief from the constant hell of humidity we've been under the last week.

I find a smoothed out crevice in the wall and nestle into it, watching as Edward ventures towards the centre of the pool and sinks beneath the surface several times. He's looking for something; something he evidently finds before bringing into over to me.

"Hold your hand out?" he instructs me.

"Why?" I ask suspiciously, and he only sighs. Deliberately imitating him, I comply. This is when he places a hermit crab in my palm and on impulse I shriek and toss it back into the water. "Not funny!" I declare, shoving against him as he laughs.

"It was pretty funny," he says, his laughter dying down. "Shove over." He squeezes in beside me and curls his arm around my waist.

"You're still that boy you used to be. The one who put snails down my t-shirt," I remind him, even as my tone drops with affection.

"I can put something else down your shirt," he murmurs against my earlobe, laughing again before I can react.

I nudge him in good humour. "Stop it. It's our first date. You're supposed to be on your best behaviour."

"You already know me, though," he replies, taking a strand of my hair and holding it beneath my nose like a moustache while attempting to supress his continued amusement.

"I know," I say wryly, and he's such a complete dork I'm flooding with affection for the shithead.

After tucking my hair back behind my ear, he pulls me closer and rests his nose and lips against my temple with a lazy-sounding hum.

"Bella...?" he asks after a moment; his arm around me lowers, his fingers trailing against my skin, and they're a lot warmer than the water temperature should allow. "I'm flying blind here, so tell me what you're comfortable with." He's suddenly serious, and unless it's the rapidly approaching twilight, his eyes are almost turning dark.

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to fully face him. My skin's beginning to prickle with goose-bumps, but I'm not cold. It's the feel of Edward's semi-naked body against mine beneath the water, and realising I'm subconsciously pressing myself further against him.

"What can I do?"

I hesitate while my heart immediately follows. "What...do you want to do...?" I'm almost afraid to ask, but at the same time, curiosity is beginning to burn within me.

"..._Everything_," he answers, his voice practically dropping to a whisper.

"Edward..." I begin, but to say what I'm not sure.

"I'll overstep and you'll get pissed off at me, so you need to tell me," he reiterates, his eyes now zeroing in on my lips. And below.

"I...I..." I stammer, completely out of my comfort zone. "I've never been asked that before..."

"You haven't?" He's surprised, and I have no idea why.

I shake my head in answer, uttering a softly spoken "no" a few paces behind it.

"I told you he didn't deserve you..." he says softly, leaning in to plant his heated lips to the curve of my neck.

I release my breath, every molecule of it, and with it the tension and rigidness that comes with so much uncertainty. I welcome the looseness that follows. And the willingness.

"Ask me what you want to do," I suggest as my voice catches; I clear it hastily.

"Can you...show me...?" he murmurs, dropping his lips momentarily to my bared shoulder.

"Show you...?" I ask as his head raises and he catches my gaze. There is definitely a depth to them; and intensity I am wholly unfamiliar with.

"These," he elaborates, pressing an index finger lightly against the material of my bikini top.

My breath almost fails me this time as my mind races to answer him. "Not yet, but..." I eventually reply only for all words leave me. I close my eyes to the feel of his lips connecting back to my flesh as he once more kisses my shoulder and then my neck; slowly on an upward path.

"But..." He cups a palm to the side of my face and covers my mouth with his.

His breath is hot against my tender skin, and it's beginning to conjure a whole scope of awareness that feels entirely too comfortable than it should.

"But..." I move before I'm barely in full comprehension of my actions, and taking his hand I slip his fingers beneath the top half of my bikini. "You can touch me."

* * *

**You wanted less talking and more touching, right?  
****Thank you for reading, and to Kim, StarryEyedWriter8 and Biebs. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: When did I start updating on a Thursday? Idek anymore. Tired. Posting and crashing. Hope you enjoy. I love all the usual people. You know who you are. All of you.  
**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 16**

"Hold," Edward instructs me, placing the towel in my hands; a small smile curved on his lips.

I only sigh to myself, but it's a better alternative than smiling along with him; or giggling like a school girl. In truth, I'm struggling to contain both.

He's standing behind his car to shield himself as he changes back into his jeans, while I hold the towel up like a curtain in front of him to further conceal him.

"No peeking," he warns wryly, making me immediately blush.

I scoff as some kind of poorly disguised diversion, and he only chuckles lightly to himself. He's constantly smiling, and there's no more shrewdness connected to it. I like it; it's pleasant, comfortable, no matter how unfamiliar. He's such an enigma though; I'm not even remotely confident I'll be able to work him out.

I do peek. Through my periphery at first, until I discreetly centre my eyes fully on him. He's in the process of pulling his legs into his jeans, but he's going commando. He wore his underwear beneath his board shorts, and they're wet. He'd removed them as well.

For the second time in little over a week, I'm faced with all his male glory before I inevitably catch myself. He's... He's right; despite my failed attempts to mock him, I have no idea what's considered _normal_. He could be the smallest guy in existence, but he still appears too large for me.

Jesus, I'm going to have to Google...

Naturally, he glances up and catches me as that all too familiar smirk once again makes an appearance. After tugging his jeans over his hips he straightens up without zipping his fly.

"Seriously, if you wanted me to show you, you could have just asked," he teases me.

"Just...—shut up!" I utter beyond mortified, ducking my rapidly burning face behind the towel and cursing my sudden curiosity.

Laughing lightly, he grabs the towel from me, tearing it away, and with my eyes everywhere but on his, I somehow catch sight of him _tucking_ _himself _behind his zip. And, of course, he catches me again.

I groan beneath my breath, allowing my head to hang forward in barely concealed frustration; there'll be no living this down.

"I can show you. I don't mind," he offers, taking too much pleasure at my expense.

"I'll take a raincheck," I mumble to the concrete beneath my bare feet as he moves beside me and drapes his arm around me.

"Sure?"

"Not yet."

**. . .**

"You can't judge me over it, though," he pipes up five minutes into the drive home.

"What?" I ask blankly.

"We just got out of the water..." he alludes, and before I'm aware of it I'm breaking into a broad grin.

"You are such a male," I tease him, turning to glance at him squarely.

"It's biology," he adds, and I almost laugh.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Stop that." He feigns some kind of anger, but his smile gives him away.

I do laugh this time. It's the icebreaker I need to ditch some of my awkwardness. "So, did I pass?" I ask when my laughter dies down.

"Pass...?" he appears confused before it dawns on him. "Oh... Yeah, you passed." His smile this time is almost secretive.

"What?" I'm curious.

"Nothing," he says half shaking his head.

"Tell me!" I insist.

"It's nothing," he repeats himself. "It's just... Never mind."

"You're driving me mental," I reply, exasperated, and he chuckles.

"You just surprised me, that's all, and very few people do." He pauses to glance at me and he appears almost serious.

"Is...that a good thing?" I ask with uncertainty.

"Of course it's a good thing."

"So...we're going to be real for the longer than the formal?"

His smile becomes toothy and when his head shakes again it's to himself. "Let's just get past this week, okay?" he eventually answers.

I open my mouth, but hesitate, unsure whether _his_ hesitation has hurt me. "So...you only want to be with me if I can handle letting you feel me up?" My voice threatens to become screechy again and in response he rolls his eyes.

"Did I say that, you pain in the neck?" he puts to me, arching a brow with more than an element of frustration.

"No, but..."

"I have to make sure it doesn't fuck up everything," he adds a little too hotly.

"Everything...?" I ask in a small voice.

"Have I ever done anything to you that warrants you thinking I'm a bastard?" he suddenly demands, ignoring my question.

"...No," I concede. "I'm sorry."

He huffs. "If we go down badly it's not only going to fuck up everything between us, but you and midget, as well. And if that happens she'll kill me."

"...I..." I begin, but let it go, suddenly feeling like the arsehole he thinks I think he is. "I'm sorry," I repeat.

"I might give you shit, Bella, but I'm not serious. I thought you knew that?" He turns to me, his eyes wide, and I realise the extent that I've hurt him.

"I'm just a...little kid." And right now that's exactly how I feel.

He scoffs softly and almost beneath his breath. "Just...don't get all needy on me."

I break into a small smile, but am unable to raise my eyes from my lap.

"Oi?" he speaks up after roughly thirty seconds of silence.

"What?" I mumble.

"Will you look at me?" He's frustrated again.

I do, reluctantly. "What?"

"From this moment on, Bella, our friendship is over. It's dead. You realise that, right?" He's serious. He's _completely_ serious, and I'm a little thrown by it.

"_What_?" I ask, my voice almost failing.

"When friends get into it with each other, there's no going back. If it goes to shit, I probably won't want to ever see you again, and you won't want to even look at me."

I shake my head, adamant he's wrong, because I can't conceive of it. "No..."

"That's just how it works," he murmurs, releasing a hand from the steering wheel to rub his fingers against his creased brow.

"But we're still friends now," I stress a little too desperately.

"Yeah, we are, but sex is the ultimate friendship killer, so I want you to be sure. What we were a couple of days ago? That's gone."

"Edward..." I reply, my voice softly wavering, but to say what I have no idea. That he might stop being the boy from next door suddenly scares the crap out of me.

"We're not little kids anymore, Bella. I can't just bring you a Mars Bar after we have a fight and expect everything to be better. If it ends, that's it."

"Why didn't you say this yesterday!?" I suddenly demand, but my chest feels as if it's restricting, and I'm not sure I'm able to breathe.

"I thought you were already away of it."

"But..." I shake my head again, when he breaks in.

"Let me put it this way?" I open my mouth to protest, but letting it go, he continues, "Are you still friends with Mike?"

"Of course not, but he wasn't my friend to begin with."

"If he was, would you still be?"

I don't answer; I can't because I'm already aware of it, and so is he.

"Bella..."

"But you'd never treat me like he did—you told me you wouldn't!" I point out, almost succumbing to tears.

"Of course I wouldn't, but it can still go to shit. We might just fight so damn much that we end up not being able to stand one another."

I shake my head again, unconvinced. "As much as you've pissed me off in the past, it's never got to that point—ever."

"Yeah, but when you add sex to something, it changes—_everything_," he says, his voice quiet and more to himself.

"Then why—why are we doing this, you arsehole!?" I blurt out, but I'm not angry; I'm more than a little freaked out.

"Because you needed a pity date, and shit happened—I don't know!" His palm thuds back to the wheel in frustration.

"It was your suggestion—to go real!"

"You didn't say no," he reminds me.

"I...I...didn't realise..." I continue to shake my head, but my hands are shaking more, and my heart is beginning to hammer. The possibility that I could lose him, lose his friendship and everything he means to me, it never once occurred to me. Maybe that makes me naïve, but it didn't.

"Bella..." he says with a heavy sigh but I cut him off.

"I know you, Edward. All my life I've known you. I would never have agreed to any of this if I thought it could end everything."

"Bella..." he begins again, but I don't let him continue.

"I don't believe there's anything you could do to me that would make me hate you—_I don't_."

He sighs again; though, it's more of a huff as if I'm not only exhausting him but annoying him. "Why is everything with you a bloody drama?"

"Because I bloody love you, you shithead!" I burst without any idea of the words I've just spoken. "And I can't...not...see..." I freeze as realisation inevitably hits me, and as Edward turns to me, his expression smoothed out in surprise.

"_...What_?" He obviously can't believe it, while I'm in complete denial.

"I mean...I...you... I... _Shit_..." I drop my forehead to my palm, mortified. "Well, go on. You might as well say it..." I mutter sarcastically from behind my hands a moment later.

"Say what?" he replies, his voice remarkably at ease.

"I told you so."

"I told you so," he echoes lightly just as I look up and shove him.

"Arsehole!"

"What?" He laughs. "You told me to say it."

"It's not funny." I can't look at him, and this time it's exactly for the reasons he no doubt suspects.

"I'm sorry." His voice softens, but it's still way too light-hearted, and I can't stand it.

"If you give me shit over this..." I don't elaborate; there's no point, but in return Edward scoffs.

"Jesus, what kind of arsehole do you think I am?"

"—You're...you're meant to say something back—like _ditto_, or something! Christ, Edward!"

"Ditto," he says casually. Way too casually.

"_What_?"

"I'm saying it back."

"That...sounds coerced."

He rolls his eyes, but his smile only twitches broader. "God, you're a pain in the neck."

"Edward..."

"You just surprised me, that's all. Twice in an hour? I wasn't exactly expecting it."

"You're not the only one," I mutter ironically.

After that all conversation between us becomes stifled, and thirty minutes is way too short a time to consider my feelings for him and the prospect of losing more than I ever thought I'd gain.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I burst when he pulls to a stop is his garage and turns off the engine.

"What?" he asks confused, turning to face me.

"I'd rather not realise how I feel about you and keep you as Alice's shithead brother," I admit sounding completely irrational.

"What are you on about?" he teases me. "I_ still am _Alice's shithead brother."

"You know what I mean," I mumble.

He only smiles, it's broad and warm and on the cusp of being a laugh. "Come on, you dork. I'll walk you out."

Clutching my hand, he leads me to halfway between our parent's properties when he stops. "Is your old man home?"

"He's on day shift this week, so yeah."

"Okay, better stay here," he says lightly, and pulling his hand from his front pocket he takes my other one. "Are you going to stare at the ground for the next—god knows how many months?"

I'm forced to look up and witness the laughter in his eyes as well as that self-satisfaction of his. "Do you believe me now?"

"Believe what?"

"That this is who I am."

"I always knew..." he half shrugs a shoulder, and releasing his hand he cups it to my cheek to keep my gaze on him.

"I won the first bet," I begin, as Edward's brow quirks in confusion.

"Okay...?"

"Promise me you'll give me whatever I ask for."

He scoffs. "Before I know what it is?"

"It's not...just promise," I snap, frustrated.

"No."

"Can you just humour me?—it's not about sex—Christ!"

He fights the obvious urge to laugh and breaks my gaze. "You're always the one bringing it up."

"No I'm not!" I retort, indignant.

He only flashes me a dubious brow and clears the amusement from his voice. "What do you want, then?"

"Don't call me snotface anymore."

"Really?" he sounds unconvinced.

"Really."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay." He shrugs. "I'll try not to."

"No _trying_."

"I can't until tomorrow night, anyway," he reminds me.

I release a conceding breath. "Let's just...not have any more bets, either."

He nods once, slowly. "Okay."

"I'm not reneging," I quickly add.

He breaks into an immediate smile. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"I'll let you in on something," he says, leaning slightly toward me.

"What?" I reply cynically.

"By Saturday night, if you hadn't fessed up on how you feel, I wouldn't have made you go through with it."

I gauge him for a moment, wondering again if I will ever work him out. "What if I did but wasn't ready?"

"There's a difference between not being ready and just being nervous. I'd know, either way," he says, too bloody confidently.

"So...you were that certain I..." I break off, feeling my face flame. You'd think the second time admitting it would be easier, but it isn't.

"I was certain, what? That you were in love with me?"

"Yeah," I mumble, eyes on the grass again.

He sighs deliberately, and placing his fingers beneath my chin, he guides my gaze back to him. "Yeah, I was pretty certain."

"How."

"You told me."

"What?" I'm suddenly confused. "When?"

"You forgotten about that letter you wrote me?" he raises his eyebrows high just as my face bursts into flames.

I had.

"Oh god..." I groan behind my hands that I clamp tightly to my face. I was twelve, he was fourteen, and I can only attribute it to the onset of puberty because I was convinced I was in love with him. Something I confessed to him in a three page letter I sprayed with my mother's perfume. He never mentioned it and I was too mortified to ever bring it up. "I...I didn't think you ever got it."

"You put it in the letter box and midget hand delivered it to me."

"You never said anything."

"I was waiting for you to bring it up. You really forgot?"

"Yeah..."

"Huh."

"Shut up, I was a kid—it was a phase."

"I was pretty flattered," he completely contradicts me, and how I expected him to react.

"You didn't give me shit over it." It's not a question; it might be a revelation.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm actually a decent guy, deep down," he teases me.

I blush, it's raging, and if the degree of my skin is anything to go by, just as conspicuous. "I figured your dad thought it was junk mail and threw it out."

"You wrote my full name in a love heart on the envelope," he reminds me, and I groan louder.

"You saved me from drowning, I was twelve..." I attempt to rationalise, but abandon it further behind my palms.

He laughs, and taking my hands he pulls them from my face. "After that, I figured you'd eventually fess up, but you didn't."

"It kind of...went away," I mumble.

"Really?" he asks sounding unconvinced.

"Yeah, I don't know. You started giving me a ton more shit. I dunno..."

"Yeah because you started avoiding me," he says, and in response my brow knots in further confusion.

"I figured you didn't feel the same, and I let it go."

He snorts and almost laughs. "Nah, but I thought if I got under your skin enough you'd eventually crack and admit it."

"...What?" I utter after staring at him for a good ten seconds in shock. "That's why?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah, pretty infantile, I know, but it was just...how we always were."

I only shake my head because I really have no words, and because he's right. Once upon a time I liked when he teased me. It once made me laugh. Once...

"You can't stop fighting with me, either," he adds, that smirk of his lighting up across his face. "But, then, I know how to rile you up, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"No more snotface," I reiterate, and he laughs.

"I promise."

"Okay..." I say sceptically because I'll believe it when I see it.

"I have an early start in the morning, so stop bitching and kiss me." And without waiting for me to answer, he grabs my hands again and pulls me flush against him.

I tilt my head back and he cups both his palms to the side of my face and presses his lips to mine. It's brief again but has just as much impact on me as if it wasn't, and I swear behind those jeans of his something else made contact with me.

"I'll come get you tomorrow arvo," he says in a soft voice against my hair after planting his lips to my brow.

I nod and clear my voice before answering him, feeling more than a little dazed. "Okay."

He pulls me back to meet my gaze, his smirk becoming shrewd. "I hope this all shy shit isn't going to hang around."

"Shut up! I _am_ shy!" I snap, as his grin widens.

"There she is..." He clamps my nose between his fingers. "Would you get inside already?"

"I'm _going_," I insist, but I don't move. I have no idea why, but in retaliation Edward flicks my brow.

"You're pretty cute," he bends down, bridging the distance between us, "_Bel-la_." He shoves me back slightly then, square in the forehead, and almost making me stumble.

"Arsehole."

"You love me."

Jesus, I do. We both know it.

**. . .**

**Come over**, I text Alice, the instant I close my bedroom door behind me.

She arrives not a minute later.

"Okay," she says, holding up her palm to me before I can open my mouth, "I don't mind hearing about it, but just so you know, all adjectives will be received as a hostile act. He's my brother, don't forget."

"How could I," I say, breaking in a wry grin.

"So," she releases an over dramatized breath and flops down on my bed beside me, "how'd it go?"

"Good," I say simply, my smile turning inward as my thoughts revise the past several hours.

"Just good?" she puts to me dubiously. "Did he get all pushy and grabby?"

"No," I reply. "He was pretty understanding."

"Hmm..." she considers it, not sounding even minimally convinced.

"He _was_," I'm insistent.

"Well...if you say so," she adds, but I realise I'm not likely to win her over. It's Edward, after all.

"Just..." I prepare to breach the subject of her brother's anatomy.

"Just...?" She raises her brows, encouraging me to continue.

"Is he...?" I'm not sure I can finish. It's a lot more awkward than it was in theory.

"An arsehole...?" she speculates my train of thought.

I break into a quick grin, glad for the sudden distraction. "No."

"Well...?" Her head tilts with obvious curiosity.

I start over, dropping my gaze to my wringing hands. "I mean, is he considered..."

"Bella—_what_?" she bursts exasperated when I once more abandon it.

"Is he _well hung_?!" I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it.

I'm met with silence, and when I raise my head I'm faced with her utter repulsion. In fact she looks like she's on the verge of gagging. "Please tell me you don't want to talk about my brother's..._package_?!"

"I just," I attempt to explain myself when she cuts me off, placing her palm an inch from my face.

"No—ew!"

"Alice, come on. You're my only link to the outside world," I tease her in an effort to dispel some of the awkwardness.

"Okay, would you like to talk about your father's...?" she attempts to explain her reasoning, only she can't say it; instead she drops her head to her outstretched hand and massages her brow.

"You had no problem dacking him last week like it was completely inconsequential," I remind her, and her head immediately snaps up.

"That was for your benefit!" she declares.

"_This_ is for my benefit," I point out, and she gauges me for a moment before expelling a long-winded breath.

"Okay. What do you want to know?" she asks behind closed eyes.

"Just...give me a comparison," I mumble.

"You think I've seen my brother with an _erection_?" she exclaims in a harsh whisper.

"You've seen Jas with one."

"Ugh... Okay," she relents behind another completely over dramatized sigh," he might be..._fractionally_ larger than Jas—and this goes no further than this room!"

She's serious, and I'm suddenly fighting to hold off my grin. "Promise."

"Anything else?" She huffs, clearly less than impressed.

"Is he..._average_? Above average...?"

She tilts her head as if to contemplate it or to protect her psyche from this conversation, I'm not sure. "I guess he's a...good size, but Bells, give me a break. I've only been with Jas," she suddenly appeals to me. "Can't you ask your mum?"

"You would inflict that hell on me?" I put to her with a quirked brow.

"At least you have a mother," she pulls her ultimate _out_ trump card.

"Below the belt!" I exclaim.

"Gotta go!" She springs to her feet. "Talk tomorrow, babe."

And before I can open my mouth she completely abandons me.

"Everything all right, sweetie?" my mother pops her head around the door three seconds later, making me suspect she was listening in, and to hell with it.

"Can we talk?" I ask, forcing back the instinctive groan.

Her expression immediately brightens, and she enters my room and sits beside me on the bed, her brows raised in anticipation. "What would you like to talk about?"

I suddenly understand how Alice had just felt, but sucking it up, I raise my head and force my reluctance back. "I'm not sure if Edward's..._average_...?" I over emphasise the word, leaving it hanging while fully suppressing the agony I'm in.

She catches on immediately and her smile becomes almost suffocating. "Oh, uhm, alright then... Be right back." She exists my room, returning not thirty seconds later with her phone. "Okay." She places herself back beside me on my bed as her fingers scan through some kind of chart of...the male anatomy.

I drop my head in complete mortification, knowing she's more than likely had the paged bookmarked for this exact moment.

"Which one is closest?" she asks with a surprising amount of delicacy before handing her phone to me.

I take it, realising my curiosity is momentarily supplanting the hell I'm in as I scan through the dozens of comparative photos. They're catalogued by width and length in conjunction with the size of the testicles. After several minutes of trying to separate Edward from the hairy exampled men, I narrow it down to three; pointing them out to my mother a moment later when I realise I can't decide.

"Okay, well"—she clears her throat and straightens up even as she fights off the obvious urge to grin—"he's quite..._well_-_proportioned_."

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?" I ask, letting go of all my inhibitions, because this really is something I need my mother for.

"Not necessarily..." she alludes; something she quickly elaborates on. "There are ways you can relax beforehand and get your body prepared. Edward can help you—I have some books on it."

All at once, I get it. I lunge to my feet. "Okay, thanks, Mum—_really_."

"Oh, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie." She waves her hand offhandedly like she often does with me; not in the slightest bit deterred by my continued humiliation. "Have you..._experimented_ with him, yet?"

"Yes—I mean, _no_." Realising my error, I squeeze my eyes shut; knowing my mother will more than likely expect details. "I mean...I'm _really _tired."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I insist, forcing the smile to my lips until my cheeks ache.

A B12 vitamin and a herbal concoction later and I'm rid of my mother's enthusiasm. I consider going to sleep, but I'm way too wired; my thoughts too centred on the shithead next door.

He sends me a text just as I'm exiting the shower: **Send me a pic of your tits.**

**No, you pervert!**

**I need a visual to sleep.**

**You have the busty blonde. **I remind him.

**Yours are nicer.**

**You think I'm that easily swayed?**

**You saw mine. It's only fair.**

I type out several replies, only to delete them all in frustration knowing he'll only twist them.

**Stop stalling. **Edward adds when I fail to reply.

**I am not sending you a tit pic. We're not there yet.**

**Yeah? Not yet?**

**Not yet.**

**Tomorrow?**

**Go to sleep!**

In response, he sends me several laughing emoji's followed by a kissing one.

**I was twelve. How old were you?** I text him as I'm crawling beneath my doona.

**How old was I when...?**

**When you realised, you arsehole.**

**Would you make sense!? **He replies along with an eye roll emoji this time.

**When you realised you liked me!**

**Oh. **He answers, and for the next several moments there's no reply; just the three moving dots indicating he's probably replying and deleting like I was moments ago.

**Hello...** I prompt him.

**I'm thinking.** He texts almost immediately, but there's no further replies and frustrated I give up.

**Goodnight, shithead.**

**Goodnight, pain in the neck. **He adds another kissing emoji, but that's it.

It's not until I wake in the early hours of the next morning that I realise he sent me one last text just before midnight. I click on it and stare dumbfounded at the one word he'd typed almost convinced I'm reading it wrong.

**Ten.**

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**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Early update YAY. Okay, well to be honest, it's my birthday tomorrow and I'm going to be out all day celebrating turning...erm...23. :D**  
**No need to wish me HB, btw. You can in a review ;) Gawd doesn't that sound tacky? My brain is slightly out of sink with my lips. Or would that be fingers? You know how it goes . I took a phenergan to sleep - if I don't I will literally not sleep for a year and I'm pretty sure that's how most serial killers kick off. Anyway, what was I saying? Okay, yeah, I forgot that I took one so I took another just to be sure. Now I'm like woooooo boy. How do antihistamines make you wonky-brained?  
****Thanks to Kim (beta), Biebs/Beibs/however TF I remember to spell it (long time fandom bestie and PR), and StarryEyedWriter8 (pre-reader who's also writing a super interesting fic with a Bella who is no wallflower)**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 17**

I wake the next morning to Alice sitting on the end of my bed with my mother's circa 1976 sex book perched on her lap.

"God, you can sleep, Bells!" she exclaims, closing the book with a loud thud. "And, what's this...?" She holds up the box of birth control pills I'd left on my bedside table, quirking an eyebrow in emphasis.

"Three guesses," I say dryly, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. "Why are you here so early?"

"Early? It's nine-thirty!"

"We're on holidays," I point out the obvious.

"Still..." She shrugs and opens the book again, seemingly at random. I can smell the bloody thing from five feet away.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"It was sitting on your desk." She juts her chin toward it, her eyes not deviating from the yellowing pages.

"God, my mother... I wouldn't be touching it without gloves if I were you," I warn her; she only chuckles lightly and continues reading.

"What's going on, Bells?" she puts the question to me after a minute of scoffing at the book's illustrations.

"Nothing," I reply, swinging my legs to the side of the bed.

"You never asked about Edward's..._package_"—her voice subtly restricts—"before."

"I was...curious," I decide to go with.

"Did he show you?" She turns the page, her brow knotting, but it's obvious it's not from my mother's well-worn sex manual.

"No, but I did..._see_ it..." I confess in a small voice.

She looks up and shuts the book again loudly. "So, you're really going through with it." It's not a question.

"Well...he is my boyfriend," I point out, cringing slightly when her gaze sharpens to mine.

"_Boyfriend_!" she echoes almost shrilly. "Did you forgot all this started so you wouldn't show up at the formal dateless?"

"Of course I haven't," I reply in my defence.

"Bells..." she complains, and she's serious this time. "Please don't do anything—at least until you realise how you feel."

"I won't. I promise," I assure her, fighting to hold off my grin.

She notices anyway and expels an audible breath. "You might as well tell me."

"I kinda admitted it. Last night..." I confess to my carpet.

I'm met with silence, and when I glance up at her she's staring at me with her mouth agape. "Already?" I nod sheepishly. "Shit." She shakes her head and half laughs in obvious disbelief. "So, you're having sex Saturday night?" Her voice drops to a whisper, her eyes appearing to subconsciously emphasize the book she's still clutching.

"I don't know..." I answer honestly. "With everyone that's going to be at your house, I don't think it'll be the right time."

"He didn't trick you into it, did he?" is her belated knee-jerk reaction complete with overly suspicious brow this time.

"No!" I insist.

"How did it happen?" She stays her present course.

"Um..." I quickly reflect back on it. "He was saying if it goes bad between us it could cause shit between me and you, and we—me and him, I mean—could never go back."

"Hmm...well, he's right, but knowing Edward it was more than likely some kind of emotional blackmail."

"Alice..." I say with a sigh. "I swear your opinion of him is lower than mine used to be."

"Bells..." she presses.

"Besides, he was pretty surprised," I add hastily to head her off.

"Are you serious about this?" she asks, her emotions veering back.

"Yeah," I reply softly, nodding my head to further reiterate it. "Spending this last week with him... I don't know. It brought it all back."

"Well, you've definitely done something to him," she mutters, opening the book for the third time. "The arsehole woke me up at six this morning _singing _in the shower!"

I only laugh, until Alice takes a heavy breath and I watch as her shoulders sag with it.

"Nothing's going to change, Al," I promise her, shuffling out from under my doona to wrap an arm around her. "We'll still be the same, except I'll be less agro around him."

"He'll steal you away." She pouts.

"No more than Jas stole you away in the beginning."

She sighs again and jerks a shoulder. "I'm happy for you, I really am, but no double-dating all the time, 'kay? He's my brother..." she doesn't elaborate, but then she doesn't need to.

"Okay."

"Can I have this?" She holds up the sex manual.

"God, yes. Please take it!" I joke, and she almost grins.

"You wanna do something tonight? Or are you going to hang with Edward?" she asks absently, flipping through the pages again.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"Jas and I were thinking about going late night shopping."

"You just said no double-dating?" I point out.

She looks up and smirks pretty ironically. "Going to the mall should be safe, but then this _is_ Edward we're talking about."

"Yeah, he has as much filter as you do." I nudge her shoulder playfully. "Why did you have to go and tell him I refer to him as a '_good-looking shithead'_?"

She smiles with one-hundred percent culpability. "Kinda slipped. Besides, since the two of you are _in love_ and everything, you should be thanking me."

"Hm..." I murmur, contemplating it. "I'm not sure if I'm _in love_ with him exactly."

"Then..." she begins, confused.

"I just know I love his hot arse!" I add quickly.

She rolls her eyes. "My brother, remember? I don't want to hear about how hot he is. His head's already the size of China as it is."

"It is," I agree, smiling slyly to myself. I'm finding I'm suddenly not so adverse to it anymore; which is all kinds of crazy.

"It's Mum's fault. She was always telling him how handsome he was," she says, her tone turning wistful.

"Yeah," I say softly. "He's really struggling about her, Al."

She turns to me, her smile sad this time. "That's where you come in. You can make up for lost time, now."

**. . .**

"Late night shopping?" Edward echoes me dubiously, ducking his head around his bathroom door, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips while he dries his hair with a second. "I can think of fifty things I'd rather do."

He texted me just before five telling me to wait in his room for him, and not two minutes later he came through the door a grubby, sweating mess. He kissed me in greeting; it was only brief, but it almost bloody floored me, and I'm not sure I like this easily influenced side of me that he's bringing out.

"I'm sure you can," I say wryly, lying back against his unmade bed and draping my arms over my eyes. It's hot and the steam from his shower isn't helping. Either is the smell of him all over his sheets.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, a fraction of a second after I'm assaulted by the combined scent of his deodorant and aftershave.

I open my eyes to him leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my shoulders.

"I don't mind," I reply, wedging my palms into his naked chest, almost subconsciously maintaining the distance between us.

"You don't mind?" he arches a suggestive brow and smirks.

I shove him forward, and grabbing my hand he pulls me upright. He's still wearing nothing but a bath towel, and it's making me more than a little uneasy.

"Is your mind ever _not_ in the gutter?" Is my attempt to cover it.

He scoffs. "How did you get _gutter_ from that? You wish, brown eyes." He clamps my nose between his fingers; something I'm beginning to suspect is his new method of torture over me.

I brush his hand away, and with a sigh he hangs his arm around my shoulders and sits beside me. "You don't really want to go shopping, do you?" He's serious.

"Not, really," I mumble, my gaze dropping to his floor, and to his discarded work clothes.

"What are you staring at now?" he wonders out loud, ducking his head to catch my eyes. He grins broadly, and I'm smiling along with him before I'm aware of it.

"Stop it," I nudge him with my shoulder.

"So, what are we doing?"

I half shrug. "I told you. I don't mind."

"Wanna get something to eat?"

"Sure, but no more junk food. I'll end up with cellulite."

He rolls his eyes. "Righto,_ Cinderella_."

"Shut up—you're being condescending."

"Am I?" He appears pleased with the fact that he is, and getting to his feet, he plants his palm to my face and shoves me back against his bed.

"Edward!" I burst, but chuckling to himself he disappears behind his wardrobe door. "You're not allowed to manhandle me, you jerk."

"Stop bitching," he replies, re-emerging a moment later in a pair of jeans and wrangling a t-shirt over his semi-damp head. "Are we staying in or going out?—you decide."

"I told you, _I don't care_," I reiterate my stance for the third time.

"Chinese food?" he puts to me, sitting beside me again and bending forward to yank on his shoes and socks.

"Yeah," I reply, shrugging my shoulders slowly.

"What?" he pulls himself upright and asks.

"Nothing. Chinese food is fine."

"You're acting weird."

I open my mouth to reply, but half laugh instead. "I'm fine."

"You're not going to get all bent out of shape like you always are, are you?" he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Are you going to ask me that every day?" I sigh.

"If I have to," he replies matter-of-factly.

"I'm fine," I insist.

"We good?" He raises his brows, and his smile this time is almost uncertain.

"We're good," I assure him.

"Righto, come on then." He takes my hand and pulls me toward the door, grabbing his keys as he does.

**. . .**

He drives to the mall regardless and leads me to the strip of restaurants off the courtyard. We sit outside, watching people head back and forth to the cinema.

"Wanna stay over with me tonight?" he asks me the instant our order is taken.

"What?" I utter; he's caught me off guard, and I'm not sure how to reply.

"What?" he echoes me, but I have no idea whether he's messing with me or not.

"Edward."

"Bella."

I shake my head; I'm bloody exhausted already. "Stop it."

He laughs shortly. "It's not a hard question. You want to stay over, or not?"

"...I suppose."

"Geez, don't sound too keen," he says dryly.

"I..."

"You stay over with midget all the time. Just tell your oldies that's what you're doing."

I scoff at his naivety. "You honestly think they'll fall for that?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "What can they do? Make you facetime them at 2 am?"

"You have met my father, right?"

He takes a heavy breath and releases it. "Bella..."

"What?"

"So you think I'm going to date rape you again—we're back to that, are we?" His brow furrows, and I think he might be serious.

"What?—No!" I insist. "I'm just..." I don't elaborate, because I have no idea what I am.

"You're just _what_?" he presses me, and I realise he's frustrated. And annoyed.

"I'm fine," I murmur.

"You can say _no_."

"I know."

"You're driving me mental, already," he mutters.

"_Sorry_!" I retort petulantly.

"Pain in the neck."

"Shithead."

"Snotface."

My mouth falls open. "_What_? You...you promised!" I almost screech.

He huffs, but a good percentage of it is out of remorse. "Okay...that was an arsehole thing to say."

"It was," I grumble, "and I don't think you're going to _date rape_ me, so stop saying that all the bloody time."

"You don't trust me, though, do you?" It's not really a question.

"Of course I trust you," I immediately counter. "Why would you...?"

"Because you looked like I was threatening to feed you to the sharks."

"I..." I sever my gaze from his awkwardly. He's right, but I'm unsure how to explain it so he'll understand, and without him giving me shit over it. "I know..." I mumble behind a conceding sigh.

"I just want to hang with you. And fool around. And if you let me feel you up again, I'll be really happy," he says lightly, but I'm pretty certain I've hurt him. He masks it well, but it's obvious to me now.

I break into a small smile, but I'm beginning to feel like a little kid again. "It's just..." In defeat, I once more abandon it.

Edward groans, and it's not nearly as beneath his breath as I think he intended. "You just _what_?"

"It's turning me into a bloody basket case—can we just get it over with already?" I blurt and I'm a lot more serious than I know I sound.

He pauses, eyeing me closely for a moment. "Your virginity...?"

"What else!?" I snap sarcastically.

"You want to get it over with?" He's not convinced and it's suddenly pissing me off.

"You can see how neurotic it's making me, can't you?" I say, struggling to keep my voice hushed. "Christ, Edward, I'm a wreck."

"You've built it up into something it's not," he points out, and pretty delicately for him.

"I haven't," I insist, huffing my breath when he quirks that sceptical brow at me. "Okay, I have, but it's...looming over me like this...big...monstrous thing. It's just..._in the way_."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Not the night of the formal—there's going to be a million people at your house."

"I'll get you drunk. You'll be right," he jokes, and it takes me too long to realise he's only teasing me.

"That's not funny."

He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, you're a drama queen."

"Edward..."

He expels his breath, sounding exasperated again. "Just tell me when you want to do it and we will. You're getting too bent out of shape over it."

"I _know_!" I reply, frustrated. "That's why I want to get it over with."

He reaches across the table and grabs my hand in his. "Will you calm down, you royal pain in the neck?"

"...Sorry," I say quietly, dropping my gaze to the table. "I'm an...idiot."

"Yeah, but you're my idiot." He squeezes my hand and when I look up and meet his eyes he smiles. And completely hamstrings me. Good-looking shithead that he is.

"Shut up," I murmur releasing a heavy breath. "Okay..."

"Okay...what?"

"I'll stay over tonight," I relent, severing his eyes for a second time.

"Okay," he says simply, and he's not giving anything away.

"What?"

"What?" he echoes, appearing as equally confused. "Friday night?"

"Huh?"

"We can ditch the parties and go back to my house..." He raises his eyebrows to further his point, and getting his meaning I nod jerkily.

"Okay," I speak to the table again just as a whirlwind erupts in my mid-section.

"Bella..."

"Yeah?"

"Will you look at me?" He sounds impatient, and not wanting to frustrate him more, I do. "Are you sure?" he stresses, his eyes widening.

"I'm sure." I half nod, half shrug. I'm sure, but at the same time, I'm everything _but_ sure.

"Do you think you'll be able to relax around me once you've lost it?" He squeezes my hand again and I break into a reluctant smile.

"Yeah, it's just the fear of the unknown, I think, but Alice is right."

"About what?" he asks, dubious again.

"We just need to fuck each other and get it over with," I mumble, scoffing humourlessly, and in response, his grin broadens.

"You have to talk to me, okay, because I have no idea what's going on in that head of yours half the time," he says after a pause, and I realise he's completely serious this time.

I glance up at him and hold his gaze for a moment. He's throwing me off; I think I'm more relaxed around him when he's messing with me. "I don't think you're going to roofie me, or anything like that. It's just..."

"It's just..." He tilts his head for me to get on with it.

"It's because I have no idea what I'm doing, and you can so easily make me lose my head," I blurt out in confession before I can talk myself out of it. "I feel completely..._out of control_ when I'm around you."

"If you didn't feel that way, I'd start wondering what you're doing with me." His tone lightens and that all too familiar smirk once again curves on his lips.

"You know what I mean," I mumble, feeling my face flame. "I'm sorry..."

"Will you stop apologising, already?"

"You've been right all along. I'm innocent, and a kid—and I'm already driving you mad." There's only one person who can make him really angry, and I don't want to be added to that list. I don't want his hypotheticals from last night to come true, either.

"Seriously, is that what you think?" He scoffs. "Jesus, Bella."

"...What?"

"You'll know when you're driving me mad, so knock that shit off."

"I..." I begin when he cuts me off again.

"Do have any idea how beautiful you are?" It's a declaration that leaves me surprisingly dumbstruck. "How can you not be aware of it?"

"Erm..." He has me flustered, and I'm suddenly struggling to maintain eye contact with him again.

"You were way out of that limp dick Newton's league."

"Edward..." I complain, rubbing my forehead in an effort to conceal the shade I can feel my face turning.

"What? It's true."

"Thanks," I reply behind a small smile. "You know how to be pretty sweet when you want to."

"Would you look at me?" He repeats himself. "I'm gonna be saying that a lot, aren't I?" I look up and he smirks again.

"Shut up."

He snorts softly through his nose. "Pain in the neck."

**. . .**

"Test me out tonight, okay?" I appeal to him after our meal arrives.

He glances up at me, a spoonful of fried rice poised mid-air. "What?"

"I'm not sure how I'm going to react. I probably need a lead up, or something," I murmur to my bowl of ramen.

"Would you stop stressing?"

"How can I not? By the looks of you you'll tear me in half," I say a little too impulsively, and just as expected his lips twitch as he fights of the obvious urge to grin.

"I won't. So long as you can relax, anyway."

"This is mortifying," I mutter.

"Why?"

"Alice won't talk to me, and my mother will more than likely want photos!" I exclaim helplessly, as he all but chokes behind a mouthful of rice.

"Your old lady is pretty out-there," he acknowledges. "But why won't midget talk to you?"

"Because it's _you_."

"Okay, yeah, I get that. You still have me, though."

"It's not the same," I mumble, twirling the noodles around my fork absently.

"I was once a virgin too, you know," he reminds me, as if that will help the situation.

"It's different for guys, though."

"How?"

"I don't know—have you ever been with a virgin before?" I ask, not sure I really want to know the answer.

"Yeah," he replies, and he's pretty cavalier.

"Who?"

He holds up his index finger.

"...The first time?"

"The first time."

"So, you were both virgins?"

"Yep."

"How did you know she was?"

"She told me, and looking back now, it's pretty obvious."

"...What did it feel like...?" It's something else I don't really want to know, but I'm oddly curious at the same time.

"Bella..." He has an expression as though he's confused and amused by my question simultaneously. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah. I...I guess."

"It was..._tight_."

"Christ!"

"You asked!"

"I meant...from _her_ perspective."

"I don't know how she was feeling—Jesus! It was awkward _as fuck_."

"And you never wanted to see her again," I quote back to him.

"Yeah, but," he runs a palm to the back of his neck, "I'd only just met her."

"...How?" I'm bewildered, but deciding I really don't want to get further into it, I drop it.

"I'm probably gonna have to get you high beforehand, you realise that, right?" He's serious again.

"I thought you don't smoke to get high," I say, for want of a more appropriate response, anyway.

"You know what I mean."

"It's not a bad idea," I mumble, shoving the noodles in my mouth and chewing mechanically. I was pretty mellow. Enough to offer him my virginity in the first place.

"So, wanna get back and practice?" he pipes up after several minutes sans talk of my approaching sex life, while clearing his throat pointedly.

"I might have to wait until my dad's in bed," I explain. For both our safety.

"Geez, you trying to kill me? I have to be up at five."

"Fine!" I huff, masking my sudden uneasiness behind irritation.

"_Fine_!" he imitates me because he's well aware of it.

"Do you always have to be an arsehole?"

He only chuckles, before pulling himself to his feet and grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. "You done?"

We're heading back to his car when we run into Alice and Jas.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here?" Alice exclaims, making a bigger deal out of it than it is.

"We just came down for dinner. How long are you guys going to be?" I ask, watching as Jas pulls Edward off to the side.

"A couple more hours," Alice says. "What?" She notices where my attention lies.

"What's going on?" I put to her, tilting my head toward them in emphasis. Whatever Jas is saying, Edward's jaw is set and his expression is beginning to darken. And right at that moment he places his hands on his hips.

"Oh," she follows my gaze and shrugs, "not sure." She doesn't appear too concerned, but Edward is beginning to worry me. He's so easy going that when he's angry it's stark. And obvious; like it is now.

Noticing that I'm watching him, he catches my gaze, and throwing me a hastily put together smile, he completely turns his back on me. I frown and turn back to Alice.

"Guy stuff," is her explanation. "You going back to our place?"

"Yeah," I reply, distracted.

"Yay. Jas is, too."

"Oh, okay."

"What's wrong?" she enquires.

"Nothing," I say simply, just as Edward moves beside me, draping his arm around my shoulders.

"Come on, let's get going," he says, but his voice is tense; something he's obviously trying to conceal.

"What's the matter?" I ask him after we part ways with Alice and Jas.

"Nothing," he replies, way too casually, and I'm not even close to believing him.

"What did Jas say to you?"

"_Nothing_," he repeats, but there's a definite edge to his tone.

I huff. "It's obvious you're pissed off about something, so just tell me!"

"No," he counters without hesitation.

"_Yes_."

"Stop being nosey."

"I'm worried about you."

"What for?" He's attempting to make light of it, but it's only making whatever's bugging him more glaring.

"It's Mike, isn't it?"

"No."

"_Tell me_!" I demand, losing patience.

He expels a frustrated breath, and hooking his elbow around my neck he pulls me flush to his chest. "Will you shut up for five minutes!?"

Ironically, I almost forgot how stubborn he can be. I let it go for the time being, and by the time we arrive home, he appears back to his old self.

"I'm just going to grab a few things from home," I fill him in after climbing out of his truck.

He turns to me, his brow knotting. "How long you going to be?"

I roll my eyes. "Five minutes."

"A minute longer and I'm coming to get you."

"And you call me needy," I tease him.

I corner my mother in the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher. "Can we talk in my room?"

Her expression immediately brightens, and very meticulously, she folds the tea towel she's carrying over the rail of the stove and accompanies me.

"I'm going to stay over at Edward and Alice's tonight," I inform her after she closes the door behind us.

A noise bursts from her. I'd like to say it wasn't a squeal, but it's the closest word to describe it, and in the next minute she's yanking me in her arms. "Oh, honey, I'm so excited!"

"Mum." I sigh. "It's not..."

Before I can finish, she releases me and grabs the box of birth control pills still lying on my bedside table. "Don't forget these."

"I won't."

She claps her hands together. "I want all the details in the morning."

"You do realise that's not going to happen." I also realise I sound like Edward, but naturally she only waves her hand to dismiss me.

"You'll be fine, sweetie. Just soak in Epsom salts after."

"God, Mum, _stop_," I beg her.

She cups both palms to my face and squeezes, and by this point it's easier to let her get it out of her system. "My little girl."

"Okay, well, just keep Dad from finding out, okay?" I appeal to her when her enthusiasm dies somewhat down.

"Oh. Leave your father to me." She starts brushing down my shirt, before her hands find their way back to my face. "You're glowing, sweetie."

"Yeah, well..." I mumble awkwardly, breaking her gaze.

"Be brave."

"I'm going," I say abruptly.

"Say no more, just make sure Edward's gentle with you. Okay?"

"Please kill me," I mutter beneath my breath.

"What's that? It won't hurt, sweetie. I promise you."

"I gotta go." I make a beeline toward my bathroom, shutting the door on her when she threatens to follow.

After hastily throwing my pyjamas and toiletries in my overnight bag, I throw it over my shoulder and escape the house before my mother recalls something else she feels is vital to pass onto me.

It's obvious now our mother-daughter bonding moment last night over the size of Edward's anatomy has set me back to the beginning, and ironically, right now, I'm glad for it. It's distracting me from the fact that I feel like I might throw up.

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**A/N: I have just saved 5 times in case I forgot I saved the other 4. What? Anywho, you'll be fine, Bella. Sheesh... **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: God I was high as a kite last week. That was embarrassing. Sorry for the lack of spoiler. In the space of a week I had my birthday, my husband's (it's today) and my mother's. We're all crazy Virgos, but I've been crazy busy to boot. I hope 18 makes up for my suckage.  
Anywho, thanks to Kim, Starry and Beibs, and God bless America on this horrible anniversary.  
**

* * *

**Sparky - electrician.**  
**Woolies - Woolworth's supermarket.**  
**If there's anything else send me a message and I'll straighten it out. I know us bogans from the great southern land have an odd way of speaking sometimes. Or all the time.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 18.**

"So," Edward says with a sigh, dropping down beside me on his bed and draping an arm around my shoulders, "there's a problem."

"What?" I ask, turning to face him. I'm still having trouble ridding the grin from my expression. He ambushed me the moment I walked through his front door and threw me over his shoulder. Just a week ago it would have pissed me off, but not anymore. It's amazing how much of a bitch denial can make you. I feel pretty ashamed of it now, and I suspect all my objections only made me more obvious.

"I don't have a lot of weed left," he confesses, bowing his head to push the heel of his palm against his brow.

"Oh... How much do you have?"

"Enough for one. And a half. Maybe..." He shrugs, looking apologetic.

I take a breath and release it into a hum in contemplation. "Can't you get some more?"

"By tomorrow?" his eyebrows raise sceptically.

"I don't know..." I mumble.

"It's kinda hard to come by. I can't exactly just rock up to Woolies and get more."

"Where do you get it?" I ask after nudging him with my shoulder.

"A sparky I know."

"Hm... It should be okay," I assure him; it's more of a speculation, though.

"Sure?" He doesn't sound very convinced.

I nod but half shrug in contradiction. I'm really not sure if I'm sure about anything right now. Except that I really want him to take my virginity from me.

"If tonight's a test run I don't really want to waste it," he explains his hesitation, and I nod again. "We can try going straight?" He winks and I break into a reluctant grin.

"I probably won't need it," I surmise; something that makes Edward almost laugh. "Shut up!"

"I'm kidding. Actually, I'm not. Jesus, Bella—are you shaking?"

"I'm fine!" I outright lie, tensing my shoulders in an effort to conceal it.

"I've still got some tequila," he suggests.

"No! That stuff made me sick!"

"You'll only need one shot to loosen up, and we just ate. It won't affect you like last time."

I pause, eyeing him suspiciously. "You sure? It made me feel..._gross_." I can still recall it, and I'm amazed I didn't spend the day throwing up.

"I _promise_." He over emphasizes it while sounding a tad too patronizing.

I elbow him. "_Fine_, but just one."

Expelling an over-exaggerated breath, he pulls himself up from beside me; returning a minute later with the bottle in hand, a quarter full.

"Here you go, your highness," he teases me after pouring a shot glass and holding it out for me.

I take it from him, but pause. Just the smell of it is churning my stomach

"You gonna drink it?" he asks, swallowing a mouthful straight from the bottle.

I sigh only half beneath my breath before pouring it into my mouth. I end up choking for a good minute and a half; enough for the initial amusement on Edward's face to turn to alarm.

"You're not even close to being ready," he mutters, rubbing my back as I continue to struggle for air.

"I'm fine," I squeak, attempting to clear it from my throat.

"We can just mess around, you know," he says with a sigh. "You're making me feel like an arsehole."

"Why?" I ask in a still restricted voice.

"I feel like I'm...fucking taking advantage of you." He huffs, and turning away from me he takes another swig from the bottle.

"It was my idea," I remind him.

"You're already stiffer than a corpse." It sounds like an accusation.

"I'm _fine_," I repeat with more conviction this time. "It's just...kinda scary."

"It's not that scary..."

"Easy for you to say."

He sighs again. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He's beginning to sound reluctant.

"_Of course_ I'm sure." I am, I realise.

"Well, _stop over thinking_ _it_." He flicks me in the forehead, a smile twitching on his lips.

I nudge him again, breaking into a grin along with him. "Just...get me over the initial fear of it and I'll be okay."

"And you want me to test you?" He's continuing to sound sceptical; enough that it's beginning to throw me.

"Christ, Edward—for someone who constantly bugged me about _taking care of it_..."

"I told you I wouldn't hold you to it, and right now..." he doesn't elaborate; instead, he takes another mouthful of tequila before refilling the shot glass. "One more."

"Sure?"

"Not really."

I shove him because I know he's not serious, but at the same time, he's too uncertain for my liking. I prefer him oozing with self-confidence; even in full-swing shithead mode.

I take the glass from him and down it before I can talk myself out of it. I almost gag, but the warmth circulating in my belly is already beginning to expand.

"Better?"

I nod once. "Better."

"Hm..." he murmurs, gazing at me, his brow knotting.

"What?"

"You're kinda...cute."

"Kinda? You said I was beautiful."

"I say a lot of things."

I elbow him again, but I'm not angry. "You're such an arsehole."

He breaks into a full grin and pulls me back. We fall against his bed, and I find myself staring up at his ceiling fan, my equilibrium suddenly compromised. "I'm glad we're doing this, booger."

I turn to gaze at him. "Doing what? Having sex?"

He almost laughs, muffling it through his nose. "_Going real, _you dork."

"No synonyms, either, shithead."

"I can't help it." He turns and rests his nose and lips to the side of my head and hums.

"Help what?"

"You. I still see you as that weird little kid from next door."

I smile and almost break into a laugh. The alcohol is already circulating through my veins, relaxing and loosening me as it does. "The weird little kid you married _how many times_?"

"Four. Or...was it five?"

"Five." I'm surprised he remembers.

"You were always chasing me around trying to kiss me, remember?" He chuckles; it's easy and smooth and suddenly doing ungodly things to my tequila fuelled mind.

I nudge him again. "You liked it."

"Hmm." He grin's lazily to himself.

"Edward?" I speak up, almost apprehensively, a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something without you twisting it around and going in circles?" I'm serious; enough that a groan immediately begins to amass in his chest.

"What...?" he humours me regardless.

"Remember last week...when you asked me not to get attached to you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, and by the sound of it he understands my meaning.

"Well, why...?"

"I couldn't make it too obvious, could I?"

"So, it was reverse psychology?"

"Pretty much."

"Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"Broken record, booger."

"Booger's a synonym." I huff. I'm frustrated but not over _booger_, or even at him in general. I'm frustrated at myself and how badly I hid my feelings in comparison to him. The only one I obviously convinced was myself. "I was _too _obvious."

"Yeah, you were, but I already knew."

"How?"

"I told you, you confessed your love to me in a ten page letter."

"Oh god, stop it. I barely remember what I wrote," I mutter, mortified by the memory of it; though, I was obviously more honest with myself at twelve than I was a week ago.

"I remember," he says simply, flashing me a quick grin when my eyes meet his dubiously.

"You do?"

"Yep. You said I was really cute and funny and I was the only boy you'd ever love."

I groan loudly and bury my rapidly burning face behind my splayed fingers. "Oh my god—shut up!"

He laughs. "I still have it. Wanna see?"

"Please tell me you're joking?" I'm shaking again, but this time it's stemmed entirely from cringing.

"Nope."

"I was twelve, I was just starting to become aware of boys, and you were always..._there_." Is my attempt to explain my prepubescent attachment to him.

"And because I'm the best looking guy on the planet?"

"What?"

"Your words, not mine."

"I never said that!"

That brow again, cocked high with doubt.

"I said you were better looking than Jas," I clarify.

He snorts. "Well, that's a given."

"Do you have a modest bone in your body?"

"Hey, I'm a realist." He winks and reaches over to clamp my nose between his fingers.

Brushing his hand away, I break into an inevitable smile; as exhausting as he is, he's just as bloody loveable.

"You know Lauren found it?"

"What?"

"Yeah, she chucked a huge mental and told me if she ever saw me with you she'd skin you alive, or some shit like that."

"_What_?—did you defend me?"

"Of course I did. I told her if she laid a finger on you, I'd rip her tits off."

"And they say chivalry is dead," I say dryly, prodding him gently with my elbow suddenly overrunning with affection for him.

"Yeah, I think she started to figure it out."

"Figure _what _out?"

"That I had a pretty sizable hard on for you."

"Christ, you're romantic," I tease him.

"Hmm. I suspect she also used it as an excuse to fuck around. We weren't going to last much longer and she wanted to knife me in the back first." He takes another mouthful from the bottle before I reach over and take it from him. "What?"

"You get all mooshy when you're drunk." Sitting up, I place it on his bedside table.

"Mooshy?" He scoffs, grabbing my hand and tugging me back to him.

"Mooshy. _Really _mooshy. _Bella-you-re-so-beautiful_ mooshy."

"You _are_ beautiful." He wraps his arm around me and I turn to him and drape mine over his chest.

"I'd rather you say it when you're sober."

He groans, his smile twitching broader. "I _do_, and I _am_ sober, you pain in the neck."

"Hmm..." I say lazily in reply, resting my cheek against him and listening to the rhythmic whoosh of his lungs.

"Wanna get naked?" he asks; he's teasing me but not wholly.

"No," I murmur.

"So, we going to have sex with our clothes on?"

"No. Just...not yet."

"Not yet," he echoes, sighing deliberately.

"You're skipping over like ten steps."

"What steps would they be?" he teases me again.

"Stop it." I close my eyes.

"Oi." He prods me.

"What?"

"You wanna sleep?"

"No." I half shake my head, but I sort of do.

"You can if you want. I'll wake you up later."

"I don't." I yawn regardless and close my eyes again.

"So..." he begins after we lapse into silence where the steady beat of his heart almost lulls me off to sleep.

"What?" I mumble drowsily.

"What's step one?" he asks, his tone light, and I realise he's messing with me again.

"Shut up."

"Show me."

"Stop it."

He laughs and there's a huskiness to it. "We gonna mess around?"

"...Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"You have to wake up first."

"I'm awake." I open my eyes and stretch, attempting to rid myself of the steadily encroaching sleepiness.

"Tell me what I'm allowed to do?" he asks, running his fingers over my forehead as he tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Whatever you want to do."

Turning, he pulls himself over me on his hands, arching that dubious brow. "Are you drunk or just half asleep?"

"Neither," I insist, but I could be both. Two shots and I'm already floating, but the objective has definitely been reached. I'm more relaxed than I've been all week.

"You want me to push you?" He still sounds dubious.

"_Test_ me," I correct him.

"It's the same thing."

"No...okay, it is a little bit."

"A few days ago you told me I wasn't allowed to push you."

"I say a lot of things," I tease him, using his own words against him.

"Stop that," he says wryly.

"You really are a handsome shithead, you know that?" I mumble, flicking his chin. He is, despite the still healing cut above his eye and the slight bruise covering his cheekbone. I raise my palm and place it over his injured face, and in return he smiles, but there's something vulnerable about it.

"Yeah, I know," he says lightly, his voice soft as he removes my hand.

"So humble," I tease him warmly.

His smile broadens. "Shirtless?"

"...What?"

"You heard me."

"I...not..."

"You want me to test you, right?"

"I...didn't shave my legs," I say stupidly, and maybe I am drunk.

He quirks a puzzled brow. "Huh?"

"I mean... Okay..." I relent because it's ridiculous fighting him on it considering I let him completely grope me the day before with nothing but a bikini on.

Pulling myself upright, I raise my arms, allowing him to peel my t-shirt off me. His fingers slip over my flesh causing an icy shudder to ripple through me. "Cold..." I say by way of explanation.

"Okay," he replies, completely humouring me. "What about this." He slips his index finger beneath my bra strap and snaps it against my shoulder.

"...Not yet."

"Not yet..._now_...?"

"Edward...just... I don't want to plan every detail. Spring it on me."

"You might knee me in the nuts." That eyebrow again, sceptical this time, and again I break into a smile.

"I won't. I promise."

"Promise?" he teases me, reaching behind him to pull his shirt forward and over his head.

"Promise," I reiterate as he leans toward me, pressing his lips tenderly to the curve of my neck. I almost moan, and I'm not sure if it's from the tequila now running free through my system, or the softness of his lips and the scent of his shampoo flooding my nostrils.

"Can I touch you again?" he asks, his lips grazing against my skin as he moves them upward to my jaw.

"Y-yeah..." I stammer.

"You're shaking..." He kisses the sensitive spot below my ear and then again before moving to my mouth.

"I'm...fine..." I mumble as my words get lost against him. He tastes like fried rice, coke and tequila, and before I'm aware of it, I'm leaning in against him, attempting to grab hold of..._something_. What my fingers connect with is warm, bare skin and then the waist band of his jeans.

He jolts slightly, but continues without a pause. He kisses me, briefly, softly, and each time he does he deepens it until I feel like my thoughts are beginning to scramble. At the same time there's no tongue, so I know he's being careful with me. It's just the sensation of his semi-parted lips repeatedly merging and breaking with mine while increasing in length and intent. I'm beginning to lose my head, and every single one of my inhibitions.

"Edward...you...you..." I murmur incoherently when he briefly releases me. To say what, I'm not sure, but before I can find out, his lips converge with mine again, opening and releasing his breath into me. The only thing I know for an absolute certainty is I'm coming undone, and all from just kissing him. I have no idea how or why he has so much power over me, and right now I'm not about to question it.

"Jesus, your mouth..." he all but moans into it as his hands run up my neck to cup to the sides of my face.

I grab his arms, and again I'm not sure why; to anchor myself maybe. I assume he takes it as a sign to move them because he slides them back to my shoulders. He leaves them resting there, and while immersing myself further in his kiss, I vaguely recall the feel of his thumbs running back and forth against the base of my neck.

There might be no tongue, and so far no groping, but I instinctively know what we're doing and we're it's leading. I'm passing a lot of boundaries I had formerly set in place with Mike as if they were inconsequential, because with Edward they are. I trust him—more than anyone I know in this world. There's always been so much more to him than just the boy next door. How could I have forgotten?

Then slowly, so slowly I almost miss it, the mechanics within him begin to shift. A hand comes to cup one of my breasts, and just as I'd encouraged him to do the day before, he slips it beneath my bra. Water cushions the pressure of connecting skin, but out of it, there's no comparison. He has large hands, long fingers, and they cover me wholly, making my skin immediately prickle.

I don't react to it as I imagined I would. No matter how new and completely out of my comfort zone it is, I still like the sensation of it, and unlike with Mike, Edward's not being invasive. He's being gentle, cautious almost, as if he's testing my boundaries; exactly how I asked him to do.

With my emotions set to overload, and completely frayed across the board, I almost succumb to tears. Like most things right now, I have zero idea why; just that I'm flooding with affection for him and something else my dormant libido has only alluded to before now. It's a burning, a longing, and an awakening restlessness deep within me.

I'm beginning to squirm; so much he breaks off. His forehead slides against mine as he fights to catch his breath. "What's wrong?—you okay?" he asks, and he sounds as drunk as I feel.

"I'm okay," I assure him, but am I? My head's spinning and my heart's beating so loud and fast my lungs are struggling to keep up.

"You sure?"

I only nod, biting down on my lower lip. I'm tensing; instinctively fighting to hold it all back. All of it—my heart, my lungs, the sexual desire—as if once released it'll completely conquer me. Right now, I honestly believe it will.

Pulling slightly back his eyes lower to my chest, following his hands; one that's still partially cupped to my boob. "Am I allowed to take this off?" he ventures as his fingers graze over the material of my bra.

I'm fairly certain my heart stalls and my newly discovered erogenous zones kick up a notch. I hastily glance down when Edward slips a palm to my cheek and draws my gaze back to his.

"I...I okay..." I really can't control how jittery I feel in my own skin. I don't want him to stop, though, and I do want him to take it off; that much I know for certain.

"Yeah?" He doesn't believe me, but it's not that I can blame him. A week ago I kneed him for getting half this close to me.

I'm nodding before I'm fully aware of it, and am succumbing to full blown trembling. "I-I think your air conditioning's up too high."

"Bella..." He breaks into a small smile as air shoots through his nose.

"...What?"

"It's not on."

"Oh..." Ducking my head, I rest my brow against his naked shoulder, but he's as equally heated as I can feel my face becoming. My body is warm, and yet the surface of my skin is cool while I'm all but losing my senses.

It feels like a cliché; one I would have laughed at if Alice had described it to me.

"You gonna look at me?" he teases me after a moment.

"Yeah..." I mumble, but that's when I notice it; what's going on behind Edward's jeans.

I kind of want to see what I'm dealing with, but at the same time, I'm afraid to confront the reality of it. It causes me to pause, and it's the first time doubt enters my consciousness. Am I'm really ready? Am I acting too hastily? Will I regret it?

Not exactly the kinds of thoughts you want racing through your mind when your body's reminding you that you do in fact have a clitoris.

"I like that you're shy around me," he bends his head and murmurs against my ear. "Actually...I more than like it..."

I raise my head, and before I can utter a syllable he cups his palm to the side of my face again and kisses me.

Oh, god... No one ever told me that several hours of stubble growth dragging across my flesh could feel so good.

"You...like...me fighting with you," I somehow manage to get out in between his lips connecting and reconnecting with mine. It's evidence that my mind really is scrambled because what's running through my thoughts and what's passing through my lips is completely incongruent. What I really wonder is how big he is with a full erection, whether my hand will fit around it, and what it will feel like. Will it match Alice's many colourful descriptions? But most of all I wonder whether it will bring me as much pleasure as I'm almost certain it will cause me pain.

He muffles his laughter beneath his breath, before severing to kiss my shoulder. This is when his fingers slip beneath the straps of my bra and he slides them free. It reminds me that I'm still wearing it; with his hands against my naked skin I almost forgot.

"I was...the only one...you weren't shy around." His mouth travels back up the side of my neck. "I didn't...like...it."

"I forgot..." I whisper, closing my eyes. "I forgot how I felt..." I've all but given up on stopping myself from shivering, but we both know I'm not cold. This magnetism that has taken hold of my flesh and blood is on a whole new scale. It's the firm softness of his lips in conjunction with that coarseness of his chin and the heat of his body. It's my mind completely exploding, and it's the fact that it's him. Edward; the shithead I completely forgot I loved.

"I know..."

Maybe a part of it was guilt that made me inevitably surrender; something I want to do right now. I'm not sure whether it's my heart and soul on overload, or the continued effects of alcohol in my system, but I'm suddenly recalling the memory of him sitting in the tree house completely succumbing to tears. It was a few months after his mother's death, and while the sound of his pain tore almost physically at my chest, I was too afraid to comfort him. He had isolated himself from me and Alice and I was worried I'd only increase that divide between us.

"Just take it off," I say as my breath gushes from me, "but you have to show me yours."

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed :o)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I'm late I know. I've been feeling pretty crap lately. My arch nemesis, spring, is here, and I am a living, breathing ball of phlegm. And to top it off it's a total killjoy when it comes to writing. I haven't written a bloody thing in weeks. I sound whiny, I know. I'm totally whining. I have no patience for this sickness bullshit. **  
**Anywho, thank you to everyone for the faves and reviews. I appreciate every one. Thanks to my bitches, as well. They know who they are. I'm sure you (who read author's notes) do as well.  
Just a friendly reminder for those who aren't from this continent that apparently doesn't exist, when we say "pissed" on it's own it means drunk. Also a rubber is an eraser.  
**

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**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 19**

"I knew I shouldn't have shown you," Edward declares for the tenth time in an hour. It's obvious he's reacting to me, but he's getting the context of all my emotions all wrong.

"I wanted you to. Stop being anal—I'm fine!" I insist. I _am _fine. And slightly shocked. And, yeah, somewhat apprehensive, too, but I really am fine.

"You're not fine." He appears to conclude. "You're not supposed to look at your boyfriend's dick like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it's a bloody scalpel."

"I didn't. Stop overreacting. I _like_ it," I reiterate.

"You like it," he echoes, that dubious brow arching high on his forehead.

"I _do_!" I stress.

"Then why did your mouth fall open?"

"It's...big!" I answer, and Christ, I fell straight into that one.

Of course the shithead only smirks to himself. "Well...yeah."

"God, you're such a male." I shove against him, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles, and pulls me back against his bed with him. I'm still braless, and in my knickers—yeah, he got my shorts off, too—but at the sound of Alice and Jas walking through the front door earlier, he threw his shirt on over me. I'm still wearing it, and I like the feel of it against my skin. And the smell of him all through the cotton.

"Did that limp dick really not ever show you his?" he asks me.

"No," I reply without hesitation. "Ugh—god, no."

"Why not?" He sounds curious, which is pretty odd in light of what we were just doing.

"He wanted to, but I...didn't."

"You didn't..." he repeats sceptically.

"Yeah..."

"But it's what you do."

"What?" I turn my head to face him.

"When you go out with someone, it's kinda what you do."

"I know..." I shrug, but I really _don't_ know. "Just...ew—no."

"Bella...?" he says after releasing a short breath.

"What?"

"Why the hell did you go out with him?" He's serious, I realise.

"I don't know," I murmur, sliding my arm over his bare chest.

"I was over here the whole time." His voice softens and he reaches over to clamp my nose between his fingers. I don't stop him; I really do like it.

"I know you were, but you threw me off by giving me so much shit."

"It was the only way I could get you to say anything to me."

"You could have been _nice _to me," I state the obvious.

He scoffs, completely dismissing me. "If I was what would you have thought?"

I hesitate, considering it for a moment before I realise his point. "I probably would have wondered what you were up to," I mumble sheepishly.

"See?" He nudges me with his shoulder.

"I know..." I concede.

"When was it that you decided I was such an arsehole?"

"I never thought you were an arsehole," I answer truthfully. A shithead, yes, but it was never out of spite. "You were just...Alice's older brother and larger than life—and in an entire different universe from me."

"But up until my mum died we were tight," he reminds me—he reminds me what an arsehole _I_ am.

I groan and bury my face against chest. "How could you forgive me?"

"You were a kid, you dope, and it wasn't your job to fix me." His voice trails after his obviously straying thoughts, and it only makes me feel worse.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, rising my head long enough to catch his gaze.

His brow quirks. He's not angry; confused maybe. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Telling me you're sorry."

"I still am, though."

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck. Did you forget, I treated you a fuck ton worse last week?"

"No," I answer in a small voice.

"Are you still pissed off at me over it?"

"No, but you still owe me one," I remind him, breaking into a smile as his quickly follows.

"Then we're even. Deal?"

"Okay," I say with a sigh.

"You're not going to bring it up again?" He raises his eyebrows unconvinced.

"No."

"It'll piss me off if you do."

"I _won't_."

"Alright..." he mumbles, his smile twitching broader. "Did I test you enough?"

"Did I pass?"

His brow arches again. "Isn't that _whataboutism_?"

I immediately pause, gauging him. "So you remembered..." I say, impressed by the fact he did. Just prior to his HSC trials Alice and I agreed to help him with English—only for Alice to quickly abandon us. It was all for nothing anyway since he was disqualified from sitting it.

"Of course I remembered," he replies matter-of-factly.

"You spent the entire time flicking pieces of rubber at me," I remind him, and he snorts back the obvious urge to laugh.

"I still remembered."

"Obviously," I mumble dryly.

"Are you going to answer?"

"...Answer?"

"Did I test you enough?" he repeats—in a monotone just to be a smart arse.

"_Yes_," I slap his chest. "Did I pass?"

He takes a breath and releases it in a deliberately drawn out hum. "B minus."

"That's still a pass, you jerk!"

He laughs. "God you get wound up quickly."

"Because you wind me up."

"Because it's so easy to do."

"Well—stop it!"

"I'll think about it..." he says smugly.

"I won the first bet—"

"You've cashed that in five times over, brown eyes." He pulls himself over me, leaning in close until his breath floods my nostrils. "You have to stop thinking ahead of everything."

"I..._what_?"

"That's why you get a B minus. You over-think fucking _everything_."

"I do not."

"And I don't have a big dick," he says, back in shithead mode.

"Will you stop it!?" I blurt, shoving him away from me. He's so good at frustrating me while reminding me again that in overlooking most things about him, I also forgot how well he knows me.

He only laughs of course, and flopping back beside me, he pulls me to him. "You're getting screechy again."

"I'm sorry I said anything..." I grumble, relaxing myself against him regardless.

"About what? My big dick?"

"Oh my god!" Pulling my hand from around him I splay it across my face.

"So what do you rate it?" he asks after his laughter dies down.

"What?"

"My _penis_."

"I...don't be a smart arse."

"Well?"

"_What_?"

"One out of ten?"

"I'm not—this again? Are you eight?"

"Tell me?" he presses.

"I said it's big." I huff, becoming frustrated, and I swear he's only doing this out of ego.

"You have nothing to compare it to."

"I'm not completely clueless, you know."

"One out of ten."

"I'm not playing that stupid game again."

He tsks. "You're going to have to give me something since you looked at it like it's a face hugger."

"A face _what_?"

"Aliens."

"_What_? Are you that upset over it?"

"Kinda, yeah..."

With my exasperation hitting breaking point, I groan loudly. "And you say I get bent out of shape."

"This is different."

"_How_?" I question him cynically.

"This is my manhood we're talking about."

"I told you I like it!"

"_He_ likes you." He breaks into a devilish grin, and I roll my eyes.

"You are such an infant. I thought his name was _Mr Doobee_."

"Nah, I was just messing with you."

I only sigh with complete defeat, and give in.

"Kiss me," he says after a moment.

"What?" I raise my head again.

"You heard."

"You don't have to tell me that anymore," I remind him. "You _can_ just kiss me."

"I want _you _to kiss _me_. I don't think you will unless I say something."

Sighing shortly, I pull myself up on my elbow and plant my lips to his. He doesn't immediately release me and before I'm aware of it one of palms slips beneath his shirt and cups to my breast. He squeezes—hard.

"Ow—_ow_!" I burst, severing from him impulsively. "Edward—too rough!"

"Sorry," he says sounding genuinely remorseful and immediately withdrawing his hand. "Kiss me without me asking, okay?"

"Okay," I agree before doing just that. And then again, a little longer this time. "Happy?"

"Hmm..." he murmurs, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

"Just be more gentle in future, alright?"

"Yeah. It's kinda just..."

"Habit?" I co-opt him.

"Not exactly."

"What then?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"Never mind."

"Tell me!"

No," he imitates my tone.

"You're such an arse," I mumble, but I'm smiling and it doesn't exactly aid in my conviction.

He laughs; it has the tenor and huskiness of _tipsy_, and it's definitely a sound I could get used to.

"We gonna go partying tomorrow night?" I ask after a moment of lying quietly against him.

"Hm...nah."

"I thought you wanted to?" I ask, glancing up at him.

"Bella, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but you don't exactly scream '_party girl'_."

"I know, but I was going to go for you," I admit.

"I'd only wind up getting pissed."

"Isn't that what everyone does at parties?" I arch a brow in emphasis and he breaks into a smile again.

"Yeah, but you're a lightweight. You'd be puking all over me."

I shove him and he laughs again. "I would not!"

"Geez, what kind of arsehole would I be if I took my girlfriend to a place that'd make her uncomfortable?"

I hesitate, even as the smile rapidly returns to my face. "Okay, I already agreed to have sex with you, so why are you being so nice?" I tease him, and I'm pretty sure I've just rendered him speechless.

"Seriously, do you enjoy wounding me?" he says after bouncing back, and in a nanosecond he has me pinned by the wrists beneath him.

"I'm joking," I insist, attempting to wriggle myself free.

"You're pretty good at _torture _yourself, booger."

"No synonyms!"

"It's payback." He clamps my nose again before yanking at the collar of his shirt I'm wearing to peer down it. "Niiiiiice..." he drawls.

"Edward!" I snap, attempting to shove him off me.

"What? You already showed me. I _like_ them," he uses my words from earlier, and I realise he's having way too much fun with me.

"I thought you would stop tormenting me after we went real," I mutter begrudgingly, elbowing him completely off me.

"I have stopped tormenting you—"

"You're _worse_."

"I don't call you snotface anymore, do I?—you know how hard that is?"

"_Booger_ is a synonym," I point out. Again.

"I didn't agree to _synonyms_."

I open my mouth to reply when he clamps his hand over it. "Will you shut up? Pain in the arse. I'm hungry. Wanna eat?"

"Again?" I answer behind his palm.

"We ate dinner like...two hours ago," is his explanation.

"I'm still full."

"Ice cream?"

"No."

"Tequila milkshake?" he raises his brows, his smirk pulling into effect again.

"No," I repeat, smiling with him. My emotions are beginning to mirror his without any effort on my part. It's got to be a good sign, no matter how much he stirs me.

"Suit yourself," he says pulling himself off the bed and stretching. "Coming?" He turns to glance at me over his shoulder.

"Yeah," I say simply, sliding off the bed.

"You gonna wear that?" he asks, that dubious brow rising again.

I glance down at myself. "Oh..." Despite his shirt covering my knickers, I can't exactly go parading like this in front of Jas. Bra-less to boot.

He actually helps me put my clothes back on, and then hooks my bra up for me. He's throwing me again, but then he is a Gemini so it makes complete sense that he's such a split personality.

"So, you've come up for air, have you?" Alice asks knowingly after Edward drags me into the family room off the hall from his bedroom.

"Huh?" I ask blankly.

"All that fighting has to work up an appetite."

"Alice..." I murmur, feeling my face flame, when Edward adds completely straight faced.

"She tried to cop a feel. I had to fight her off."

With an exasperated sigh I drop my head back. "Just ignore him."

"Always do. No shirt again, Maverick?" She turns her attention to Edward.

"Booger was wearing it." Releasing my hand, he hooks his elbow around my neck and pulls me to him. Pre-empting me, no doubt. "Where's _Jasper_?"

"Shut up—he went to get Yogurtland."

"Why didn't you say something?" He releases me as I elbow him back.

"You were too busy bitching with each other. We didn't want to disturb you," she says sarcastically.

"Ring him up."

"Too late, he's probably on his way back," she replies, just as Jas himself walks through the front door.

"Hey," he greets me and Edward.

"Get us anything?" Edward immediately questions him.

"Think I'm stupid?" Jas scoffs, holding up the plastic bag revealing four cups inside.

Releasing my breath, I drop down on the sofa beside Alice.

"Have sex?" she asks covertly in my ear.

"No," I whisper, only it comes out as more of an accusation.

"This is the longest foreplay in history," she teases after a moment of scrutinising me.

"Here, Bella. Alice said you like chocolate sauce and nuts," Jas breaks in holding a lidded-cup and a pink spoon out to me.

"Yeah, she likes nuts," Edward pipes up, flopping beside me while Alice snorts.

"God, you're a child," she says.

"Thanks, Jas," I reply taking it from him and deciding to ignore shithead. I peel the lid back and breathe it in. I'm not sure I can stomach anything right now, but no doubt Edward will polish off what I can't finish.

"Hey?" He nudges me.

I turn to him; his cheeks are full of yogurt and god knows what else. Then scooping out a caramel and sprinkled-covered marshmallow with his fingers, he places it to my lips. I accept it only because he seems to like sharing his food with me.

"Wanna watch some horrors?" Jas suggests, squeezing himself between me and Alice.

"We can't. Edward's not old enough," Alice answers, sounding exactly like her brother.

Edward rolls his eyes and laughs pointedly. "_We_ aren't hanging with you, loser."

"Close your mouth, you pig!" Alice protests, and in reply Edward flicks caramel sauce at her. A glob if it lands directly between her eyes, and naturally Edward snorts back his amusement.

"You're an idiot!" she snaps, wiping it off. "Bella, take him away and smack some maturity into him—if that's even possible."

"I wouldn't mind that," is his comeback, evil grin on his face.

"No bringing me into this!" I object.

"And here I was thinking you could tame him," she mutters.

"What?" Edward asks, his brow suddenly knotting.

"Go back into your room, and keep the bitching to a minimum or I'm going spray the both of you with water," Alice threatens him, but we all know it's empty.

Naturally, Edward only snorts before grabbing my hand and pulling me up with him. "Thanks, Jas." He holds his hand out and Jas momentarily grabs it.

"No worries," he replies.

"You're doing the lights tonight—don't forget," Edward turns to Alice.

"I _haven't_—night, Bella."

"_Tame_?" Edward says the moment he closes his door behind us. "Is that what you thought?"

"It's what _your sister_ thought," I clarify. "I'm clearly not as delusional as she is."

He breaks into an almost reluctant smile. "Please tell me you wouldn't... Shit..."

"Huh?" I ask confused because he's _really_ throwing me now.

"You don't want to change me, do you?" he asks, leaning against his door, his gaze on the floor. He's serious, and not only that; he's almost looks...concerned.

"Why would I want to do that?"

He glances up at me, his eyes fixed to mine steadily. "Lauren tried that shit—for two fucking years."

"Lauren's an idiot," I reply without hesitation, and a genuine smile tugs on his lips.

"Wanna crash?"

"Already? It's only nine-thirty."

"Yeah, but I have to be up early in the morning. And you kept me up late last night."

"That was all you."

He breaks into a full grin, scoffing past it before his eyes once more draw to the floor. "You need a shower or anything?"

"No, I'm fine." Because, yeah, that's not a good idea right now.

"Righto. Bring your pjs?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But...?"

"Can I wear your shirt?" I venture hopefully, and he smirks this time.

"Sure."

After taking off my shorts and top, I pull his t-shirt back over my head.

"You wearing that to bed?" he questions, referring to my bra as I reach beneath the back of his shirt, unclasp it and pull it off through an arm hole. His mouth falls open. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Secret."

He half shakes his head, and following suit, he strips down to his underwear. There's a notable bulge behind them; enough for my eyes to immediately widen in surprise.

"Okay, don't get bent out of shape. What you just did was fucking hot, and it has a mind of its own half the time."

"I believe you," I reply, forcing my eyes to his, and naturally he knows exactly what I'm doing.

"Come on, Rapunzel."

"You know how patronising it is when you call me those names?" I point out after he flicks off the lights and tugs me beneath his sheet with him.

"Why do you think everything I say is _patronising_?" he asks, wiping my hair back off my forehead and pulling me against his chest.

"It _sounds_ patronising."

"You have to stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Thinking I'm an arsehole all the time."

"I told you, I don't think you're an arsehole."

"Yeah, righto..." He doesn't believe me, and I sigh, deciding to concede defeat.

"Sorry I called you patronising."

"Sorry I called you Rapunzel."

Leaning slightly forward, I press my lips to his because he wants me to kiss him first. "Goodnight, shithead."

"Why is it you can call me shithead, but I can't call you snotface?"

I huff this time, but mainly because he has a point and I'm covering. "Fine. If you _really_ want to call me snotface, you can."

"Alright..." he murmurs, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He's clearly impressed with himself.

"I really _don't_ think you're an arsehole," I feel the need to repeat myself.

"I know," he says lightly, tightening his arms around me. "A word of warning..."

"What?"

"With you sleeping with me like this I'm probably going to be rock hard all night, so try not to knee me or anything."

"Um, okay. Well, thanks for the head's up."

"Or you could help put me at ease..."

"What?" I ask blankly. It's another cover, because we're _covering _a lot of bases in only a few hours.

"Give me your hand."

"But..."

"But?"

"Edward..."

"It's fine. I can take care of it later."

"Can't you just have a cold shower?"

"Blue balls is a bad thing."

"Do you always have to tell me _everything_ that comes into your head?"

He laughs that smooth, rustic laugh again, only it's becoming compromised by his obvious drowsiness.

"Fine," I decide on the spot before I can talk myself out of it, and reaching down I grab a handful of a very hard, hot mass.

In doing so I almost propel Edward off the side of the bed as a reflexive sound bursts from him. "Shit, Bella—you have to warn me first!"

"Sorry!" I burst, wanting to suddenly hide beneath the sheet away from him. Though, my first question has been answered. It does fit in my palm—just barely.

"It's okay—Jesus, what are you doing now? Get back up here." He tugs me back to eye level with him. "You still want me to test you?"

I nod, suddenly realising my body springs to life almost as instantly as his does. "Yeah."

Taking the hand I have clenched against his chest, he slides it down past his stomach to the trail of hair that disappears behind his underwear. "Under or over?"

"W-what?" I stammer.

"Think about it."

"Oh—what do _you _want me to do?"

"You're really asking me that?" he teases me.

"Edward..."

"Under obviously, you dork."

"This really isn't funny."

"It kinda is and I'm horny as shit."

I expel my breath and he releases his hand over mine. "I'm sorry—what are you doing?"

"I want you to do what you want."

"Oh..." I don't move. I can't. I'm beginning to burn with curiosity, but my hand has completely frozen.

"Bella..."

"I'm okay, but..."

"But?"

"How hard—I mean, how gentle do I have to be?"

"Treat me like you would if it was your body."

"Okay..." I slip my fingers apprehensively into the waistband of his knickers. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"

He laughs again; it shoots silently through his nose this time. "You won't hurt me, but if you do, believe me, you'll know."

"No laughing at me."

"I can't help it. You're funny."

I inch my fingers further down and I immediately make contact. It surprises me—as much as the sound of Edward immediately sucking in his breath. Tentatively, I begin to feel around attempting to make sense of everything. "Edward why...?"

"Huh?" His voice has turned gravelly, almost choked. "Bella, you're teasing the fuck out of me."

"But...I mean, which direction is it meant...to be in?" Oh, god, I'm an idiot, and even more of one when Edward starts laughing to himself again. Only this time he's beginning to sound like he's in pain.

"Um, _what_?"

"Never mind..." Groaning internally, I Close my eyes, then drawing from the chutzpah I know exists inside me somewhere, I brush my fingers over that heated, pulsating, and slightly alarming magnitude of him, and enclose my hand around it.

A strained sound erupts from him and he immediately turns rigid. In response, I panic and relax my grip, but almost on impulse his hand once again closes over mine.

"Keep going," he all but whispers before roughly clearing his throat.

I honestly have no idea what I'm doing, but living with my mother, I know enough to get the gist of it fairly quickly. Whatever I'm doing, I'm doing it right because Edward's beginning to come apart. It's a strange feeling to see him so out of control, and to force such a strong reaction from him. And to realise it's impacting me almost as much. His fists are twisting stiffly around the fitted sheet beneath us while his back almost arches off the mattress, and not thirty seconds into it he pulls the pillow out from under his head and clamps it down over his face.

"My fucking sister is in the next room," he explains before I can ask, his voice muffled but still clearly pained behind the material of it.

I'm careful not to be too rough, and not to go too fast, because despite his assurances, his skin is dragging up and down in my palm without any kind of lubrication and I'm worried I'm going to injure him. But then it's not as if his body isn't providing that for me. Alice once told me the male body is a marvel, and I'm slightly inclined to believe her. If I can get past how completely out of my comfort zone this is for me, though. It comes with being sheltered by one parent and continuously being pushed out of the nest by the other, but it's still the first time I've ever felt my age.

Edward begins to shake—he's literally quaking—even as his body locks up more against me, and that handful of him I have in my palm is actually twitching. And while he's making every effort to remain quiet, even as he forcefully muffles himself, he's losing the battle.

I've heard the sound of him punching the bag that hangs in the corner of his room numerous times in the past. It's the almost primitive noise that comes with effort and exertion, and backed up by a whole array of emotion. That's what he sounds like now, only it's heightened as if it's being drawn from deep within him.

He gasps, and groans—and almost cries—simultaneously, and releasing a hand he reaches out and grabs the shirt I'm wearing; yanking it from me and against him. His other hand drops from the pillow he held over his face, his breath shortened and pulling almost violently from his lungs behind it, and that's when I realise he's let go; literally and figuratively.

I loosen my grip around him but don't let go; it's pounding even as it slowly shrinks back, and in sync with the rapid tempo of his heart.

"Bella..." he utters, out of breath and sounding slightly manic.

"Yeah?" I whisper, pressing my face against his damp, heated chest. I'm self-conscious all of a sudden, and I'm not sure why.

"You...have...no idea..." he attempts to speak, fighting to catch his breath. Shoving the pillow completely out of the way, he turns the both of us to the side. I slip from his chest, and releasing him, I wrap both my arms around his waist to anchor myself. "How long...I've needed that."

* * *

**A/N: God, these two can talk. Hope you enjoyed. **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I was late last week, so I thought I'd be early with this chapter. Happy weekend. Or Friday night. We're on school hols in Old Sydney Town. It's a blessing and a curse because while I don't have to do the morning and night school routine, my kids being home all day distracts me from getting anything written. Ah, well.  
Thanks to Kim, and happy birthday, woman! And to StarryEyedWriter8.  
MWAH.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 20**

I wake early the next morning to the unmistakable sound of rubber violently colliding with rubber. A sound that is immediately followed by Edward's barely muffled, breathless grunts.

I open my eyes drowsily and squint against the low-rising morning sun filtering in through his open blinds. It's silhouetting Edward in an aura of golden light as he repeatedly, and with a lot of force, strikes the bag hanging from his ceiling. It sways slightly back and forth, its chain creaking as his fists continue to clash with it.

I watch him for a moment, on my stomach, the warmth of early summer's dawn against my exposed back as I allow my eyes to adjust to the light. He's shirtless and wearing only a pair of track pants. A sweat-band is across his forehead, a pair of bright red boxing gloves strapped to his wrists, while water all but pours from him. Every inch of his bared skin is glistening with it, and as his muscles flex and then jolt with each impact, particles of it fly into the air.

I'm still tired and the sound is so hypnotic it almost lulls me back to sleep. My curiosity gets the better of me, though. And for the next twenty minutes or so, I watch discreetly as he continues without a pause until his breath becomes shorter, and the reflexive, exertive sounds bursting from him grow louder. He's making every effort to hold it in, but it's obvious it's becoming almost impossible for him. That's when he catches the bag as it swings back toward him and glances over his shoulder.

The instant I notice his head turn, I close my eyes. Whether he's caught me or not, I'm not sure, but I hear him snort softly to himself before he continues punching away.

I doze off not long after, and when I wake again it's to the feel of droplets of warm water hitting my bare back before Edward presses his lips briefly to my shoulder. The scent of soap and deodorant instantly follows and then fades away with the sounds of his feet gently thudding against the timber floor.

Groaning softly and stretching out my limbs, I open my eyes; catching the time on his iPod dock. It's just past seven.

"Want a coffee, sleeping beauty?" Edward puts to me from behind me.

Rolling to my back, I sit up, facing him. That's when I realise I'm still topless, and breaking into a cagey grin Edward's gaze immediately zeroes in on my chest. He got my shirt off me last night—with very little persuasion—and I found I'm completely partial to sleeping beside him with the feel of his naked flesh against mine.

"Yeah," I answer, my voice croaky as I deliberately pull his sheet to cover myself. "Want me to make you breakfast?" I offer, breaking into a very different smile in response. I feel almost giddy.

He opens his mouth but pauses for a second. "I'm not going to say no to that."

He disappears into his walk-in, returning a moment later in his work-wear pants and clutching a rolled up shirt in his hands. He tosses it to me; I catch it and wrangle it over my head. It's not exactly clean, but it smells like him and anything else right now is irrelevant. Besides the one I was wearing last night kind of got alot dirtier.

After pulling on his licenced work-shirt, he reaches over the bed, grabs my hand and pulls me to him. I practically fall at his feet before he drags me behind him into the kitchen and meals area.

Given Edward's sweet tooth, I make him pancakes. It was pretty much my only option considering there was nothing else in the pantry.

"I don't suppose you have maple syrup?" I wonder out loud, after flipping the fifth round of batter in the frying pan.

"I prefer jam. There's some in the fridge," he answers, loudly stirring the two coffees he just made before flicking the remnants off the spoon at me.

I sigh, pretty patiently all things considered, and before I get the chance to wipe it from the side of my face, he does. Only to slide his other hand beneath my shirt to one of my boobs.

He takes me by surprise, and sucking in my breath, I jump in my skin and almost burn myself. "Edward!" I blurt, struggling to keep my voice hushed.

He laughs, and withdrawing his hand he slides a coffee in front of me. "Milk and two sugars, your highness."

I only sigh. I'm starting to suspect he'll never advance beyond being a caveman, no matter how much he ages.

I make him double the amount of pancakes I made myself, and after sitting opposite him at the breakfast table I watch as he smears each one with butter and raspberry jam. I now know why he stays so fit, though.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he asks me pretty casually after swallowing a humongous mouthful.

"Um...having sex," I state the obvious and he laughs again, smothering it quickly beneath his breath.

"I meant before...or _after_." He raises his brows in emphasis.

"Oh," I half shrug a shoulder. "I don't mind."

"I'll be home at four. Think about it."

"Do we have to do anything?"

"...It's Friday," he points out as if I'm not already aware of it.

"No kidding."

He arches that brow at me and smirks. "Gonna stay over again?"

"Sure," I say simply.

Pausing, he gauges me for a moment.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his grin turning inward. "Nothing... Hey?"

"Yeah." I glance up at him.

"If you want to go to a few parties tonight, we will."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"What if I really don't want to?"

His smile broadens. "Then we'll have our own party."

My grin pulls in response almost immediately. "I like that idea better."

"Alrighty." After shovelling the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, he finishes his coffee and gets to his feet. "Come walk me out."

I wait on the front porch, still only in my knickers and his t-shirt, while he reverses his car from the garage. Then after parking on the driveway, he pushes open the driver's side door, and motions to me.

"What are you gonna do today?" he asks, helping me up to the ledge so I'm eye level with him.

"_After_ I allow my mother to celebrate my _womanhood_, you mean?" I say lightly.

His brow knots with that confused amusement that everyone who knows my mother understands. "What?"

"She thinks last night was _D-Day_."

His amusement increases. "You gonna let her believe it?"

"If I can."

He laughs lightly. "So I'm guessing you're still okay about tonight."

I nod once, breaking my gaze momentarily from his. "I'm still okay."

"You're beginning to shock the hell out of me, snotface."

"_Already_?" I say wryly, releasing a breath.

"If you knew why I call you it you wouldn't bitch about it so much."

I consider it for a moment, but I'm way too sceptical. "Why do you call me it?"

"Think about it."

"Tell me!"

"You should already know." He imitates my tone before clamping my nose between his fingers. "I gotta go, pain in the neck. Kiss me."

"Kiss _me_," I counter.

"No." He tugs on my hair. "Five...four..."

"What are you doing?"

"Counting down. You have five seconds to kiss me or I'll grab your tits."

"Oh my god," I mumble. "_Fine_." Leaning forward I press my lips gently to his. He attempts to grab my tits anyway, and after elbowing him from me, I step down to the driveway. "See you later, shithead."

He winks, and leaning down he flicks my forehead; the physical equivalent of _snotface_. I don't "bitch" or get _screechy_, as he normally accuses me of doing, for the main reason that he absolutely _has_ hoodwinked me and I'm suddenly finding every dorky thing he does charming.

My mother would be proud. My father? Not so much.

"Later, brown eyes," he says, and after closing his door, he reverses to the road and pulls away; honking as he does.

I watch until his car is out of sight before I head back inside. Alice is awake, looking annoyed by the hour, her hair more of a mayhem than mine.

"Hey, Al," I greet her, leaning against the island counter beside her. "Jas gone home?"

"Uni 'til one," she explains. "So..." She turns to face me as that crafty expression she shares with her brother monopolises her expression. "How does it feel?"

"How does _what _feel?" I play dumb.

"Not being a virgin, obviously, you dag."

"I'm _still_ a virgin," I admit, dropping my voice to a teasing whisper.

"_Seriously_?" Her tone rises in disbelief. "Then what was that—never mind. I don't want to know." She grimaces, hiding it behind her oversized coffee mug. "We gonna hang today?" she asks after swallowing a gulp.

"Of course."

"Let's sunbake. I want to get tanned for tomorrow."

"Let's not. I'll end up a lobster." Alice can tan in five minutes. I blister and get third degree burns in two.

"Wanna go shopping then?" she suggests. "Jas broke my hair dryer."

"_How_?"

She rolls her eyes, smiling slightly to herself. "You know what he's like. He loves his hair more than me."

"Okay," I answer her.

"'Kay, about twelve?"

"Yeah."

"So, Jas and I are going to Rose's party tonight. Everyone's going apparently. You in?"

"No. Edward doesn't want to," I answer her.

"Um—_what_?" she says cynically, but she's just as equally shocked. "Okay, forget what I said last night, you've_ completely_ tamed him."

"Only because he knows I don't want to go," I attempt to explain.

"Still applies."

"Alice..."

"God, I'm in the Twilight Zone."

"We're having our own party," I say, smiling secretively.

"TMI!" she bursts. "Ugh, I gotta get some more sleep," she grumbles. "Jas likes to sleep practically on top of me. I swear I was _cooking_ all night."

"Okay, go crash some more. I'm going to head home and get changed." And shower. And shave—everything.

"Kay..." Turning to me she pulls me momentarily into her arms. "I'm happy for you, Bells. He's my brother and a total arsehole sometimes, but he's a good guy."

"I know," I reply, wrapping my arms around her in return before pulling back. "See you at twelve."

After throwing my shorts and singlet top back on, I grab my overnight bag from Edward's room and attempt to sneak into the house without attracting my mother's attention. I fail, of course. The moment I close the front door quietly behind me she comes rushing at me from the kitchen.

"Sweetie," she gushes, bringing both her hands to my cup my face. "How do you feel?" Her eyes are lit up and she's slightly manic, but I made the decision years ago to give her this moment.

"Fine," I reply.

"How was it?" Her tone rises, her eyes widening in obvious anticipation for details I have no intention of giving her.

"Erm, fine."

"Just fine?" Her voice drops.

"Mum..." I sigh.

"Okay, I know it can be overwhelming, but... Oh, sweetie, let me look at you." She angles my face in every direction as if the lack of purity will somehow show in my complexion. "You're a woman now."

"Yeah," I mumble as the prickle of mortification begins to heat my face.

"Were you safe?" she asks, her scrutiny now on my eyes, and I'm suddenly concerned she'll see my deception in them.

"Yes."

"Was he gentle?"

"_Mum_, please..."

"Did you cry?"

"Why would I cry?"

"Because it's such a huge moment in a girl's life—did you have an orgasm?"

"Mum!" I protest, all but cringing away from her. "You're crossing boundaries!"

"Oh..." She makes that excited sound again, rising her shoulders with it. "Be right back, sweetie."

I vaguely hear the sound of the bath water running, but since I can also hear Jake running crazy in the family room, I naively assume it's for him. My mother's anal retentive about keeping him clean; which often means more than one bath a day.

She returns roughly half an hour later, just as I'm about to step into the shower, carrying two champagne glasses. It's easier just to humour her, and allowing her to sit me down on my bed I take the glass from her and toast my _coming of age_.

"Did you bleed?" she ventures after delving into another round of too-personal questions.

"Oh my god."

"It's quite normal."

"I know, but, Mum, this—I don't want to go into details."

"Okay..." She curves her arm around me and squeezes me. "Drink up."

I down it in one mouthful if only to end the torture, when my mother pulls me up from the bed. Then taking my shoulders in each palm she guides me into the hall.

This is when Jake rounds the corner, jumping up and down and clapping as he choruses my name to the beat. "Bel-la, Bel-la, Bel-la!"

"What's he doing?" I ask.

"I told him to congratulate you."

"Mum!" I burst. "He's _three_!"

"Oh..." She dismisses me outright before leading me into the bathroom. "I ran you a bath," She motions to the body of water with rose petals floating on the surface and god knows what else. It smells like the inside of a hippie, incense shop. "I added some essential oils and salts that are good for inflammation—"

"Um, thanks," I utter, both mortified and impressed by the lengths of her investment.

"I know how irresistible he is, sweetie, but try and wait a few days before you do it again. You need to let your body heal."

I nod, becoming distracted as my mind races to comprehend her meaning. She isn't exactly painting a very warm and fuzzy picture of what's just over the horizon for me. Especially when she ran the same kinds of baths for herself after giving birth to Jake.

What will I need to "heal" from? I wonder. It's not as if I can ask her, though. She'll know I lied to her, and while she can be oppressively invested her heart's always been in the right place.

"I-I really appreciate this, Mum. Thanks," I mumble, staring down at the sickly sweet-scented bath water waiting for me.

"You're welcome." She squeezes me to her again. "Do you want to talk, later?"

I shake my head slowly. "No. Alice and I are going shopping soon."

"Okay. Take your time." She leaves me to it as real panic, for the first time, begins to converge on me.

**. . .**

"Alice, I want you to be honest—brutally honest," I appeal to her after we order protein shakes and find a seat in the Mall's food court.

"Okay..." she replies, only sounding moderately apprehensive.

"How badly is it going to hurt?"

She hesitates for a moment, looking as if she's deliberating her answer. "It's kinda uncomfortable in the beginning, but then it's...not."

"How long for."

"It depends, I guess." She takes a loud slurp from her straw.

"On what?"

"Whether you're well..._lubricated_." Her brow cocks in deliberate innuendo.

"You mean..."

"Get him to make you come first." She huffs brashly, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh..." I mumble, sipping my drink thoughtfully. "H-how..." I stammer when she interjects.

"Bella—_my brother_, remember?"

"Well, who else am I going to talk to?"

"I know, but—ugh..."

"What will need to heal?"

"Huh?" Her brow knots in confusion. "What...?"

"My mother seems to think I'll need several days after to heal."

"Geez, Bells, how big is your old man?"

"—Alice! Christ!"

"See what I mean? Cringe fest, right?" she reiterates her point.

"I know, but..."

"You might be.._.tender_ after but that's it. You're worried about nothing."

"Really?" I ask hopefully, but it's not enough to convince me. Yet.

"_Really_. It's just...something you have to experience yourself."

"But it's not _painful_ painful, is it?"

"Compared to what?" She frowns and tilts her head.

"Breaking your arm?" It's something we both did in 5th grade—three months apart. Alice fell out of the treehouse, and I flipped over the handle bars of my bike.

"God, no." She immediately dismisses me, and it gives me a little more faith. "Bells, you're being silly. It's really not that bad, and kinda..._nice _the first time." A wistful smile pulls on her lips before she breaks to glance down at her phone, the straw of her shake wedged between her lips. "God, _Mike Newton_ and _Jessica_ are down here, too."

"Ugh, why...?" I moan after Alice turns her phone to me, showing me the selfie they'd just taken with Santa Claus on the bottom floor.

Naturally we run into them, because when they're around the world shrinks to a tenth its size. We're in Target in the small appliances section when we round an aisle and suddenly find ourselves face to face with them. Mike only scowls at me, while Jessica's expression is sly.

Alice nudges me. "Well, you know what they say?" she pipes up, raising her voice for their obvious benefit. "Some people up grade and _some people_ down grade."

It's times like this that I'm reminded again that smart-arsery runs in her family's DNA.

"And _some people_ whore around." Is Jessica's snotty come-back.

"And _some people_ can't get over the fact that my brother _wouldn't _whore around with them," Alice immediately counters. "Everyone has standards. You understand that, right, Jessica?"

Snorting to herself, Jessica switches her attention to me. "What's the matter, Bella? Cat got your tongue?" Her eyebrows raise to reiterate it, and when I fail to answer she smirks smugly. "Just as I thought. Standing behind Alice again."

I can feel my face rapidly burning, and I hate myself for it. Mostly because she's right. I've let Alice fight my battles for me since pre-school.

"You and Edward coming partying tonight, hm?" she asks, and as she flashes that obnoxious grin at me a second time something snaps deep within me.

"No, actually. I'd rather have sex with my boyfriend than watch the two of you attempt to in front of everyone." The words are out of my mouth before I'm fully aware of them, leaving Jessica surprisingly dumbstruck, and if I didn't know any better..._disappointed_.

"Aww, what's the matter, Jessica?" Alice adds, her wit just as lightning fast as her brother's. "Did you want Edward to autograph one of your ransom notes?"

"I think they were poems," I reply to Alice as Jessica, now red-faced and fuming, turns on her heel and stalks off, dragging Mike behind her.

Alice snickers, loudly, getting in one last jab before they disappear out of sight. "Belllllllls," she drawls, clearly impressed, "whatever Edward's doing to you, I completely approve—that was epic!"

"It felt bloody good, too," I murmur, smiling secretly to myself.

"She actually looked upset Edward's not coming," Alice says laughing as she wraps her arms around my shoulders. "Talk about pathetic."

"I know. In front of Mike, too," I add, shaking it from my thoughts.

"Reckon she's his pity date?"

I open my mouth only to break into an immediate grin. "Wouldn't that be ironic?"

"_Epically_ ironic."

**. . .**

Edward sends me a text just before four to let me know he's working an hour back, and so keeping up the charade Alice comes over and we get ready to go _partying_. My father will overlook sleeping over Alice's once, but a second night might cause complications. And he's been in the force long enough to know after-exam parties are everywhere this time of year. It's a convincing enough excuse.

"What time will you be home?" he asks, clearly unimpressed with all of it, after entering my room while Alice is in the middle of doing my hair.

"Um, probably late," I answer delicately from the floor as Alice sits over me on my bed.

"Edward going?" he demands, his tone stiffening.

"Yeah..."

"Take a cab," he orders, and pulling his wallet from his back pocket he hands me a fifty dollar note.

"Thanks, Dad," I say, smiling up at him warmly. He returns it, albeit awkwardly, and leaves.

"Ouch..." Alice whispers after he closes the door behind him. "He really doesn't trust Edward, does he?"

"Not a lot," I say wryly, flattening my palm to my stomach; it's starting to roll.

"Well good," she decides. "Edward needs to earn his respect."

"He's doing okay," I say with a sigh. "I don't feel well. Am I hot?" I turn to face her.

She places the back of her hand to my brow and smiles knowingly. "Nope. Getting cold feet?"

"No... I mean, how will I know?" I ask.

"What's your body telling you?"

"Huh?" I glance over my shoulder at her again and almost burn my ear on the curling iron she has wrapped around a strand of my hair.

"When you think of him does it say, 'that's right, bitch, we're here and it's time to par-tay'?"

"Um...in not so many words..." I mumble.

"Does everything burn and tingle and you feel the need to cross your legs _very_ tightly?"

"Alice..." My face immediately bursts into flames. "I thought there was a strict TMI policy where Edward and I are concerned?"

"Just as I thought..." She snickers. "Nerves, babe. Nothing else."

"How you girls, doing? Need a hand?" My mother offers after sticking her head in the room a minute later.

"We're fine, Mum," I reply as Alice invites her in.

Sitting before me on the carpet, she applies my eyeliner while Alice finishes curling my hair. "Are you staying at Alice's again, sweetie?" she whispers.

"Probably," I reply.

"_Definitely_," Alice corrects me.

"Okay, I'll take care of your father," she smiles to herself, while completely overlooking the fact that I'm descending into a ball of nerves and restlessness. "What time will the boys be here?"

"Six," Alice plays along. She filled them both in on the ruse.

"I feel sick!" I burst, but I'm filling with as much anticipation as I am jitters.

"You're fine," Alice says dryly, while my mother cups her hand to my cheek to peer into my eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I...I mean..." But breaking her gaze I abandon it.

"It's all starting to hit you, isn't it?" she concludes, her voice gentle.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"What has?" Alice pipes up.

"Her losing her virginity last night," my mother fills her in as I'm plunged straight back into Hell.

"Huh?" Alice says blankly before I discreetly elbow her in the shin. "Oh!—Yeah. Don't worry, Mrs Swan, the two of them were practically bouncing off the walls. Kept me awake all night—"

"Alice!" I protest, beyond mortified as she descends into giggles.

"She's just teasing you, sweetie," my mother assures me of what I already know. "Do you need a B12 to calm down?"

"Please." And ironically, for the first time in my life, I do.

She gives one to Alice as well, before resuming her place in front of me to finish my makeup. I'm almost fearful to see the result, but it's not nearly as bad as I feared. She's given me _smoky_ eyes that compliment them—albeit making them look a tad too large—and a darker shade of lipstick than I usually wear, but Alice assures me that Edward will like it. I'm inclined to believe her. He likes dark eyes; he's always made that known, and for the first time in my life I'm happy I inherited by father's mahogany brown eyes and not my mother's sky blue.

Alice picks out my outfit; a navy blue, sleeveless dress, buttoned down the front to my knees. Again, because Edward will like it. It's her way of supporting this moment in my life while trying to remain detached to the fact that it involves her brother.

He arrives a couple of minutes early with Jas in tow. The both of them wait for me and Alice in the foyer while my mother fills us in on how "handsome" they look. She's never wrong where Edward is concerned and tonight's no exception. He's wearing a collared shirt that actually looks ironed, his hair is still wet and neatly combed, he's cleanly shaven, and he smells as equally potent as he does dizzying.

He's taken the extra effort tonight because I've never seen him look so well put-together.

It almost doesn't look like him. Until he smiles, that is, when Edward as I know him shines through.

"You look fuck-hot," he murmurs against my ear after grabbing my hand and pulling me beside him.

"You look almost civilised," I tease him.

He laughs lightly, and curling his arm around my waist he squeezes me, only to look up into my father's disapproving gaze.

"Mr Swan," Edward greets after clearing his throat and extending his hand.

"Edward." He takes it begrudgingly.

"Not working tonight?" Edward ventures, and there's something in his tone that suggests they've become acquainted with each other's presence Friday nights.

"No." My father's tone is almost wry before he does an about-face and disappears behind the double doors that closes the kitchen-family area from the foyer.

"I think he's warming up to me," he jokes covertly against my ear again.

"He better not find out what you're going to do to me tonight, then," I reply in just as much confidence.

"You're really surprising me, snotface," he says after my mother practically ushers all four of us out the door.

"I remember." I look up at him and smile, and he returns it almost immediately.

"...Remember?"

"Why you call me snotface."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, next chapter will be *that* chapter. Thanks for reading. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Okay, so this wasn't an easy one to write. I had to make it "them". If it makes sense. They banter and bicker, and they talk too much. Incorporating it into sex was kinda...how-ya-going. But there it is. Also, anyone who knows me knows I do not get explicit. There are just some things I refuse to write. **  
**This chapter is presently unedited. Kim's busy right now. I'll switch it over when she gets it done. This is me in all my unmitigated imperfection ;)**  
**Thanks to StarryEyedWriter8 for being a super awesome pre-reader and always loving on every word I write.**

**I have a new story 8 chapters in that I'll be posting after this one wraps up. It's vamp with the roles reversed. Edward is the human, and Bella the vamp and she is not partial to teenage boys of his calibre. She's also emphatically _not_ a vegetarian. **

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 21.**

"You cleaned your room?" I point out what's right before me in complete surprise. Okay, it's probably closer to shock because I'm fairly certain this is the first time I've ever fully seen his floorboards.

"That obvious?" Edward jokes in return, and grabbing my hand he pulls me beside him on the edge of his just as equally neat, and made, bed.

"I should take a photo." I nudge him with my shoulder and his grin inches broader for a moment before it falls. He appears almost as nervous as I am, but I must be misreading him. "What?" I quiz.

"Nothing," he says simply before hauling himself back to his feet. Then making his way to his dresser he rummages around in the top drawer for a moment; eventually pulling out what he was looking for. "Hey?" He turns around, displaying the plastic zip-lock back holding at least half a dozen rolled joints inside.

"You got more?"

"I got more." His smile returns, and he's pretty pleased with himself.

"Okay...but will you hate me if I tell you I want to go straight?" I confess and almost shy away from him.

"What...?" he asks blankly. "You sure?" He sure as hell isn't.

"Positive. I don't want to do it because I'm under the influence of anything," I explain myself, and he nods in obvious understanding.

"We'll have one after." He winks, and I almost laugh.

"Okay." It's not a bad idea. Especially if I end up crying like my mother seems to think will happen.

Dropping the bag on the top of his dresser, he sits back beside me. "You gonna tell me now?" he asks, curling his arm around my waist.

I take a breath and release it, smiling to myself. It's funny how and when recollection hits. The instant I saw Edward in the foyer of my house that one memory came flooding back; the _real_ reason why he continued calling me snotface. I can't believe I forgot about it, but then, I lost sight of a lot of things. Something the boy I always thought would torment me until my dying breath never did.

I was nine and he was eleven, and it was the summer following the inception of _snotface_. He, Alice and I were playing in his backyard throwing water balloons at each other. I was wearing the little red bikini I got for Christmas, and Edward teased me to no end over it; that's how the water bombing began. We eventually stopped for a refill when he pointed the hose straight at my face, at point blank range, and sprayed me with water. I almost choked, and he of course, laughed.

I ended up in tears, and promptly went home. He followed ten minutes later, standing reluctantly in the middle of my room, while I hid from him inside my closet; the door cracked open ajar.

"You gonna come out?" he asked, sounding as remorseful as eleven-year-old Edward could, bare-chested in nothing but his board shorts. He was so scrawny back then. All arms, legs and hair.

"No!" I sobbed. "You're a bully and I hate you."

"Geez..." he mumbled and I watched as he lowered his head and ran his hand back through his wayward hair. While it's tamer now, back then it strayed in directions that appeared to defy logic. "I didn't mean to."

"Yes you did."

"Snotface..."

"—_Bella_!" I corrected him.

"I like snotface better."

"I don't like _you_. At _all_."

"Come on..."

"No. Go away or I'll call my dad."

"If you do I'll tell him you call me _shithead_," he countered not sounding too concerned about it.

"I'll tell _your _dad you say 'fuck'—a_ll the time_."

"You just said it." He was verging on laughter, but then he always did appear to get great amusement out of me.

"Shut up."

"Snotface..."

"_BELLA_!" I screeched.

"I told you, I like snotface."

"Go away."

"Not until you come out."

"I'll come out if you stop calling me snotface."

"You're the only one I call snotface."

"_So_?"

"It's 'cause I like you."

"...What?" I was immediately confused before pulling open the sliding door a fraction wider. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Yeah it does. If I call you snotface then only you'll know I like you. Okay?"

"You like me?" I peered up at him as uncertainty overran me. I didn't even understand the implications of it at that age, just that I liked the idea of it. Very much.

"Yeah. Wanna get married again?" He was teasing me, I realised.

"We're not babies anymore," I replied begrudgingly.

"Just come on," he muttered with a sigh, and reaching through the opening of my wardrobe he grabbed my hand and pulled me out. "Stop whinging, will ya. You're such a girl."

"I _am_ a girl!" I shoved him and he broke into a grin. "What do you mean _you like me_?"

He shrugged. "You're my favourite girl."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so if I ever stop calling you snotface then you'll know you're not. Alright?"

I grinned broadly. So broadly my cheeks ached with it. "Okay."

"You never stopped calling me it," I murmur more or less to myself as my eyes fall to his bare floor while I wonder again how the hell I could have forgotten _so _much.

"I knew you remembered," he replies, the smile obvious in his voice as he rests his chin to the top of my head. "If you apologise I'll grab your tits," he pre-empts me.

I break into a smile and nudge him again. "I'm not going to apologise."

"I reckon you were."

"Will you shut up?" I look up and meet his gaze. I'm not serious; I love him to death.

His smile is back before it falls again—for a different context this time. "We need to just get on with it or it'll start to get awkward."

"What?—oh. God, you're romantic," I say wryly.

"It's true." His smile almost becomes charming before he curls his arm around my shoulders. "I like this," he adds, tugging lightly on the collar of my dress.

"I thought you might."

"You on the pill yet?" he asks, changing the subject and completely taking me aback.

"_What_? I am—didn't I tell you?"

"No," he answers and he not only sounds surprised, but impressed.

"I got it a couple of days ago, but we have to wait a month."

"I'm aware of that," he mumbles, smiling to himself this time—at my expense.

"Stop it."

"I'll take care of it 'til then."

"Don't knock me up," I'm adamant, but it's a complete cover. It's about to happen and my emotions are becoming compromised by the reality of it.

"I'm not going to knock you up," he says almost dryly, but he's not fooled; he can see straight through me. "What's wrong?—you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?" he presses, raising his brows and bringing the smile automatically back to my lips.

"Positive."

"All right then shut up."

"...What?"

"If we keep talking it'll be midnight and we'll still be sitting here." He smirks, and I whack him this time.

"Well, _you _shut up and kiss me."

He does.

I expect him to tell me to kiss him first, but he doesn't. Cupping his palm to my cheek he leans in and plants his lips to mine, and for the next several minutes it's all we do. And I'm right back where we left off.

It's the perfect sign I'm ready because I never got to even half this point with Mike; nor did I want to. With Edward it's so easy to let go; to put my faith in him and let myself relax. If that's even possible right now.

My mind immediately starts to race, but I keep my focus, my senses, on the absolute present; on the feel of his lips against mine, his open mouth, his arms around me, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and his tongue... I don't react to it like I have been the last week. He's taking me so far down with him that I don't even realise it. Until, I do, and then I start wondering why the hell I ever told him to stop because this shithead sure knows how to kiss. I find myself wishing I'd just shut up and let him do this to me from the start, but then my thoughts are becoming erratic and slightly overrun.

That's when I break off.

"What's the matter?" he asks, pulling back long enough to meet my eyes, as concern swims in his.

I shake my head and attempt to catch my breath. I feel almost dizzy until I realise every square inch of my flesh is tingling and it's doing a lot more than surprising me. "I...I don't know...what I'm doing..." I sound just as incoherent as I feel and because Edward knows me, he knows my cues a thousand times better than I know his, he laughs. It's rustic and tinged with warmth, and I close my eyes and join him.

"Jesus, you're funny," he replies, planting his lips to mine briefly, before they trail down the side of my neck; his fingers already onto the second button of my dress.

"You're...making me lose my head," I openly admit, only for his laughter to increase and saturate my skin.

"I'm going to make you lose a lot more in a moment," he promises, his voice low and gravelly before his mouth is back against mine.

I think I moan into it, I'm not sure, but as I struggle to hold onto what's left of my breath, I'm losing everything else. Every single one of my previously held onto inhibitions. Now I just want them gone, all of them, and I want Edward to take them from me. I want him to touch me all over, to see me completely naked; I want him to cross those boundaries I've kept in place just for him.

It's not that I have to ask him. He has half the buttons of my dress undone, and as he slides a hand beneath my bra it slips from my shoulders. But he's as all over the place as I am. There's no order or symmetry like I thought there'd be. It's rushed and almost without direction, but I'm pretty certain—from my mother's sex manuals—that's what foreplay is all about.

My dress falls to my waist, and I'm uncertain whether I stand up or whether Edward pulls me up, but as I get to my feet it drops to the floor. I step over it, and as Edward clumsily kicks off his shoes I unbutton his shirt, and then help him with his jeans.

I'm acting on impulse alone, on what my body's feeling and the sensation of his, because the pace is moving a lot faster than I was anticipating and my mind is not even close to catching up. I'm aware of it, though, of everything, and it doesn't occur to me to panic. To _get bent out of shape_, as Edward would usually say.

I must be ready. More than ready. I have to be ready because my body is absolutely burning.

"Am I ready?—I'm ready, right?" I manage to get out in between my lips connecting and reconnecting with his. I should know the answer, but my brain's continuing to lag, allowing me to get completely caught up in the moment.

"You're ready," he assures me, and I realise the tenor of his voice has changed. There's no more shrewdness, no more teasing. There's a thickness to it, a choked huskiness that I don't think I've ever heard from him before.

I'm not quite 5'4, Edward's 6'2, and I'm on my toes and struggling. I keep tripping over his bare feet. It threatens to break the momentum, if we didn't both descend into laughter at least, and in the next moment he hoists me into his arms.

My bra is undone, I realise, but still hanging from my shoulders. I shrug it off before wrapping my arms around his neck. His skin is hot, his breath even hotter, while his cheeks are flushed and ruddy. He looks like he's been boxing away at his punching bag for an hour, except he doesn't. This goes deeper, a lot deeper, and it's almost surreal to me that it's me, _snotface,_ who's bring it out in him. Irresistible, handsome shithead who could have any girl he wanted, but he wants me.

Makes no sense. At all.

"Would you shut up," he suddenly blurts.

"What?" I ask, with barely enough breath to make my voice audible.

"You're over...thinking," he replies, his face practically sliding against mine.

"How can you...tell?" It's the small things I'm suddenly in tune to; like the sound and sensation of his lips pulling and merging repeatedly with mine. It makes my skin crawl in movies, but in reality it's ridiculous how appealing it is.

"Because...I know you."

"I'm thinking a _whole_ lot of things," I break to whisper in his ear. I feel high, and I almost have to stop and remind myself that I'm not.

"What are...you thinking?" We're suddenly on his bed, on our knees before he drops his face to the side of my neck; his hands slipping around my lower back to the waistband of my undies.

"Every...thing..." I murmur breathlessly, closing my eyes against the intensity that is my own body and how it's reacting to his. I'm not sure I can contain it, and I'm beginning to feel out of control. I'm completely drunk on him; it's the only word to describe it.

"Everything..." he echoes as he drags his nose and lips up and down my neck and over my face. "Bella..."

"Hmm...?" I mumble, shivering against the feel of his almost-smooth face against mine. He smells so good, and I'm not sure whether it's the aroma of his aftershave soaked through his skin that's beginning to make me feel so compromised, but I'm becoming lightheaded. And restless.

"Do you need me to do...anything?" he asks continuing to plant his lips along my neck tenderly.

"Do anything...?" I repeat, unsure I heard him correctly, or whether I'm able to properly comprehend his words at the moment.

"Do you want me to make you come?" he clarifies, pulling back and setting his dark eyes on mine.

"How...would you do that?" I ask, biting on my bottom lips with immediate uncertainty.

He breaks into an impulsive grin, fighting off the obvious urge to laugh at me again. "Think about it, you dork," he replies in that hopelessly rustic voice before reaching out to wipe my hair away from my face.

I pause to consider it. I'm curious, but hesitant, and my cognitive abilities are severely lacking right now. "Do...you think I need it?"

"Yeah," he answers without pause.

"...You d-don't mind?" I stammer, distracted by his heaving chest, and that little-bit-too-big length of him behind his rapidly expanding underwear.

"Of course I don't," he says as my gaze makes its way back to his.

I'm nodding my head before I can articulate it. I'm not so sure about it but I'm more than curious. "Okay."

"Okay," he mumbles in echo, a ghost of a smile remaining on his lips as he pulls himself off his bed to his feet.

Taking my hand he helps me to follow suit before he drags his bedding down. Then scooping me up into his arms he props me in the centre of his mattress and jumps in beside me. I'm not really certain what's about to happen, but what he does surprises me; he tugs his sheet over the two of us and pulls me back into his arms.

"...What are you...?" I begin, when it becomes obvious.

Reaching down, he clumsily takes off his underwear, and then mine; slower this time, making me conscious of his fingers grazing over my legs as he removes them. "No thinking too much, and close your eyes," he instructs me.

"Don't tease me," I warn him shoving lightly against him.

"Would you shut up and do it."

I do, and rolling the both of us to the side, he pulls me flush to him and hooks my leg over his hips. That's when I feel him hot and hard and resting against my inner thigh. I keep my focus on it, wondering how it will feel inside me, or whether it will even fit. I'm so distracted by it that I barely register Edward's hand sliding down my side and over my stomach between us. And like he did last night, the instant the tips of his fingers make contact with me I all but lurch off the bed. He doesn't stop though; he only attempts—unsuccessfully—to scoff back his laughter even as he continues.

"Stop laugh—what...how—_oh my god_!" _Mother_ of god, is more accurate! I'm pretty sure what he's doing to me will give me an aneurysm, but what is beginning to erupt out of me I have no way of holding back. I immediately start to squirm—so much Edward has to practically hold me still. This is despite his barely concealed amusement over me, and the fact that he is way too expertly navigating his way around the most intimate part of my body.

If I last thirty seconds I'd be surprised. It comes quickly; a current of electricity that overruns me before I'm properly expecting it, while causing every muscle within me to seize. It spreads to every extremity, from my fingers and toes to the streaks of light behind my closed eyes until my entire body of skin is practically pulsating with it.

It's over before I'm ready, and just as I reach that peak I'm free-falling back with it. That's when it hits me; the complete unexpected shock of it. I sit upright in Edward's bed, clutching his sheet to my chest as I come down. My lungs are heaving and I honestly feel like I've just lost a large percentage of my brain cells.

"I... How... How... How _the fuck_ have I been missing out on that all this time?! Holy shit!" I burst to no one in particular and just as Edward's laughter bursts from him.

I turn to him, the width of my smile immediately mirroring his as I become increasingly aware of just how fluid and completely ignited I'm suddenly feeling. I feel like I could melt into him, and that maybe I am.

"Jesus, Bella..." Edward says, continuing to chuckle to himself, and pulling me to him, he rolls me on my back. Moving himself over me, he plants a knee between my legs, and following his lead I curl them both around him. "Please tell me that wasn't the first time you've had an orgasm?"

"No, I had one in my sleep once..." I admit, breaking his gaze self-consciously.

"You serious?" I'm not sure he believes me. Though, I have no idea why.

"My mother introduced it to me when I was twelve—complete with sex manual. I was traumatised!" I explain, only for him to descend into laughter again.

He drops his face to the crook of my neck as he attempts to pull himself together, but his amusement by me seems to be winning out.

"Can you stop laughing?" In all honesty, I'm trying not to laugh with him, and I'm actually riding up that peak again; something I didn't even know was possible. _Yet_, anyway.

"I can't help it," he says, his voice muffled against my skin while the heat of his breath begins to make me twitch. It's not something I can help, though. I feel almost statically charged. "You keep shocking the hell out of me, booger," he adds, before I feel the sensation of his heated lips against my flesh, and then again, and just like that the medium has shifted with him again; something I immediately echo.

We're back to kissing, and nothing more, until Edward slowly shifts his body directly between mine. That's when I start to get jittery because I can feel him digging directly into me and I'm suddenly not very confident he'll fit. It's another emotion added to the recent fray making me feel suddenly overloaded, and I'm not quite sure how to process it. I'm as eager as I am uncertain, but I can't stop myself from tensing. And Edward's becoming aware of it.

"Bella..." he completely severs his lips from mine and pulls back to meet my gaze again. "Just relax." His voice is gentle, and maybe a little worried.

I nod quickly, releasing my bated breath as I do. "I'm fine," I assure him. I am. I'm not. I'm ready. If three things could exist simultaneously, they'd be it.

He smiles again, but there's more to it this time. It's almost how he used to smile at me; when we were kids, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"Just do it—before I freak out completely," I suddenly appeal to him.

His breath shoots from his nose as if he's going to laugh again, but he doesn't. "Okay, but you might want to breathe first. You keep holding it in."

"I know..." I sigh.

"You're worried about nothing."

"I'm fine," I repeat, but my convictions are beginning to wane.

"You're fine," he murmurs, clamping my nose, teasing me, then pulling himself slightly to his knees, he reaches down between our rapidly dampening bodies. I follow his gaze; he grips himself in his palm to keep himself anchored I assume. I accommodate him as much as I can, relaxing my legs that are still tangled around his as he meticulously leans back into me.

He's wearing a condom; I don't even recall him putting it on, and while I'm reflecting on it, Edward, as if taking advantage of my distraction, pushes into me. That's all it takes, and with a sharp burning sensation, he's suddenly deep within me.

My breath draws, a gasp almost bursting from me when I all but freeze as realisation descends upon me. "Is... is that it?"

I think he means to laugh, but it comes out sounding rigid, and the feeling of him jerking inside me is so surreal I almost laugh with him. "Wasn't that bad, was it?"

I shake my head as my breath completely gushes from me. "No. Why have you stopped?"

"I'm making sure you're okay, first, you pain in the neck," he teases me, but his voice is tense as if he's in pain.

"I'm okay," I insist, my eyes trained on his face; it's knotted in discomfort. "What's wrong?"

"I can barely breathe," he admits, and pulling slightly back he all but groans.

"Am-am I hurting you?"

He does laugh this time, even with his breath restricting, and for a moment he relaxes his entire weight over me. "Bella—stop it!"

"You keep stopping."

"You're throwing me off," he says after bracing himself over me by his hands again. I open my mouth to reply when he clamps his palm over it. "Would you shut up?"

I do, attempting to fight back my smile in response to him, but it's nothing like my mother, all her sex books, or even Alice said it would be. It's uncomfortable, sure, but a pain my body naturally adapts to. Edward goes slowly; he stays conscious of me, but in doing so we end up in laughter several times. Or more accurately, Edward bursts into laughter at how ridiculously innocent I am. I actually ask him why I'm not screaming out his name, why it feels..._strange_ more than anything.

I'm pretty sure we talk more than what's considered normal. Or I talk and Edward tells me to shut up. He kisses me, he laughs as he kisses me, he's sweet and funny, and we actually have several serious moments. It's everything I thought it wouldn't be, and more than I expected, until slowly Edward's voice begins to fail and I realise he's on the very same edge he'd taken me to only moments before.

"Edward, I... I think... I..." I want to tell him it's beginning to hurt, but I don't, and in return he only shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Shhh... No talking," he utters out in barely a whisper, bending down to clumsily kiss me.

He keeps his face buried against the side of mine for a moment, before again pulling back, and I watch in almost fascination as his expression passes from something akin to pain into complete release.

He doesn't moan and groan like I stupidly expected is supposed to happen. It's an amalgamation of physical relief and emotional exhaustion pulling from a depth I can now relate to. And the tears my mother eluded to are suddenly burning behind my eyes.

He collapses on top of me, his heart pounding, his breath so hot my skin prickles as it washes over me, and without any warning those tears spill over. He doesn't initially notice, but I can't hide them from him for long and the moment he rises his head to meet my eyes his immediately widen.

"Hey..." he says, his tone compromised by alarm.

I shake my head, frustrated at myself. "Shut up—I'm fine."

He smiles; it's charming, because when he wants to be he completely owns it. "You're a pain in the neck," he says gently.

"God, I was worried about nothing." I almost laugh dryly, but I'm too currently overrun with a thousand emotions—none of them rational.

"You were..." He helps me wipe my face dry, then enclosing his arms around me, he pulls me against him and rolls to his back.

I exhale heavily, several times, every breath of it, and allow my tears to subside naturally.

Edward mirrors me, only as the air releases from his lungs it's accompanied by a long, languid hum. "Reckon you can relax now?"

"Yes. _Finally_."

* * *

**A/N: Finally indeed. Yeah? No? So-so? Let me know. Or not. **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I think my beta has abandoned me. *side-eyes Kim*. I can't update this weekend. Tomorrow I'm going into the city for some much needed girl time with my bestie, and Sunday is the last official day of the school hols. I have a ton of uniform ironing to do. Fuck this domestic shit. Kill joy.  
Are you guys gonna get me to a 1000 this update? Okay, that might be pushing it, but a girl can dream. Almost 50 for the last chapter. Convenient, you hoors. Hey, if you like my lemons, power to ya. They're not really lemons, per se. Maybe reconstituted cordial with 5% imported lemons from Russia. I think that's still a stretch, though. **

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 22.**

It's becoming apparent to me that my mother can sniff out sex like a bloodhound. It almost makes me self-conscious, worried that it's reeking from me, because the moment I step through the front door she immediately makes a beeline for me.

"Sweetie..." she says, confusion and suspicion amalgamating across her expression. "Have you...?"

"Yes." I'm completely honest because it's the best way to diffuse her vicariousness. "_Again_," I pre-empt her, and this time we're both on the same page. Edward and I did have sex again.

It was around the early hours of the morning. Sometime during the night it started to rain, and an almighty crack of thunder caused the both of us to bolt upright in bed in shock. I turned to him, he turned to me, and in the next instant we were kissing. It was one hundred percent physical with a lot less talking, and I enjoyed it a lot more than the first time.

God, I love the sound and sensation of Edward's lips on mine. They're as equally soft as they are firm, and so hot they began to charge me before I was even fully awake. But sex at 4am is dangerous, and Edward almost made a huge blunder. He forgot to put on a condom, and he was inside me before we both realized. It was only a matter of seconds before he rectified it, but my heart felt like it had literally stopped.

I have lived the last three years of my life with a baby in the house; it is most definitely not something I want to repeat.

The panic didn't set in until an hour after when my early morning brain became lucid enough to start ticking over. Or _overthink_ as Edward believes. I freaked out and started Googling, and then I freaked out more. Apparently it is possible to get pregnant during those three seconds we were unprotected. Not likely, but possible, and that was enough for me. At 8am sharp, I made Edward drive me to the nearest chemist to get the morning after pill.

I still can't breathe evenly, and I'm almost tempted to swear off sex until I've taken the first month of birth control. _Almost,_ because in reality I know I'll never stick to it. With my virginity finally out of the way, I want Edward to get me up to par to where I'm supposed to be. I want an orgasm from sex – I want several – and I'm impatient for it.

"What's the matter?—you're all weepy?" My mother observes, ambushing me before I could make it to the safety of my bedroom.

"Nothing...just..." Shit, should I tell her? She'd be the best person to discuss it with right now; if I could survive the cringing.

"Just...?" she urges, her face becoming animated at the possibility of details, and completely incongruent with my overrun emotions.

"For a few seconds we were unprotected..." I admit to my carpet.

"What do you mean, sweetie?"

I shake my head, deciding after all that this conversation is not a good idea. "Never mind."

"Do you mean you started without protection?" She's latched on now, and they'll be no dislodging her any time soon. I can only attribute this moment of weakness to my frayed emotions. They are frayed, but then that's not quite the right word. I feel like I'm literally erupting with them. I want to laugh and cry simultaneously, and I'm still so ignited by the memory of his warm pliable skin against mine. My emotions aren't the only thing that's heightened. I honestly feel like my heart might burst from my chest at a moment's notice while my entire body of skin feels as if it's an active current.

"Yes," I mumble, my face flaming. It will never be a comfortable thing to talk sex with your mother, no matter how much of an expert she is on it.

"But you got the morning after pill, right?"

"Yes," I continue to tell my bare feet.

"That's my girl." She wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me with obvious affection. "You'll be fine."

I nod once and release my breath. The pharmacist put my fears to rest this morning, but it's still reassuring to hear it from someone closer.

"You excited about tonight?"

I look up, meet her over-animated gaze, and smile for the first time. "Yeah." I nod again. I am, but when I think over the last two weeks I want to laugh at the irony of it. Edward and I came together for this one night, and along the way we somehow made it to the point we're at now. What's even more ironic is at the start of it all I cringed when he touched me, and now I want nothing but to feel his hands all over me. "I'm an idiot," I mumble unintentionally aloud, and my mother naturally misconstrues it.

"We all make mistakes, sweetie, but you did the right thing."

"I know..." I say, smiling discreetly to myself. Oh boy, did I do the right thing.

"Would you like me to run you another bath?" she offers.

"Yeah." I really do need one because while I'm a livewire of activity, my delicate flesh is as tender as I was warned it would be.

I soak for two hours, laughing and sobbing to myself as my mind replays the events of last night repeatedly. While my emotions are all over the place, and I'm finding it increasing hard to comprehend the bulk of them, the only thing I'm sure of is that shithead owns my heart and I'm not letting him go anytime soon.

Or ever.

He finds his way over to me just before midday. My mother let him in and when I'm returning to my room after my bath ran cold, I open the door to him sitting on my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, the smile already broad across my face.

He returns it and gets to his feet. "Just making sure you're okay—Jesus, what is that smell?"

"Me. My mother ran me a _bath_."

"Do, I want to know?" he asks, his grin askew in semi-concealed amusement.

"No." I take the hand he holds out to me and allow him to pull me against him.

"But you're okay, right?" he murmurs, resting his chin to the top of my head.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I put to him, inhaling that musky scent of him deep into my lungs.

"You got pretty screechy this morning." The laughter rocks him gently even as he attempts to suppress it.

"I know—shut up. Better to be safe, right?"

"Hmm," he hums before releasing me to meet my gaze. "So six o'clock, yeah?" he asks referring to the time he has to pick me up.

"Yep."

"Okay." He clamps my nose between his fingers; I shove him back playfully.

"Will you stop that?"

He laughs lightly. "You hanging with Alice today?"

"Later. Why?"

He shrugs casually. "Wanna go for lunch?"

I roll my eyes. "Are you ever not thinking about food?"

"It's lunchtime and I worked up an appetite." He winks.

"I'm sure you did," I say wryly. "Okay. Just let me get dressed." I'm wearing my bathrobe; _only_ my bathrobe.

"Can I watch?" he jokes.

"No—go and talk to my mother."

His face pales and he practically shudders. "Okay, that's not going to happen. Where's your old man?"

"Work."

"Ah..." His grin turns cagey, and wrapping his arms around my waist he draws me back to him. "We can fit in a quickie then."

"If you want to kill me," I reply; though, my body is more responsive to him than I imagined.

"What's that mean?" His brow furrows.

"It means I need _some _downtime, at least."

"Why?" He's still not convinced.

"I'm..._sore_." It's the not the right word, but it'll have to do.

His head cocks as if he's deliberating it. "Yeah?"

"Yes." I attempt to wrangle myself from his arms, only to find his hands beneath the satin of my robe. "Edward..."

"Your skin's soft." He bends his head and plants his lips to the base of my neck. "Okay, what the fuck is that smell?" He pulls back again and grimaces.

"You probably don't want to know."

"You're not going to smell like this tonight, are you?" he asks dubiously.

"No," I assure him, and pulling out my robe to partially reveal my chest I take a whiff of myself. "It's not that bad," I state, shoving him back when he attempts to catch a glimpse.

He chuckles lightly. "Hurry up, snotface, I'm hungry."

I sigh loudly, allowing it to morph into a groan. "Okay, while that was cute when you were eleven, it really isn't anymore."

"You're cute, though, so it still applies," he says with a quick grin, and with another sigh I let it go as I slide open my closet doors to change.

Like we always seem to do, we drive to the mall and eat at the food court. I can't continue to eat the way Edward does, and so ordering a salad roll, I find a seat for the two of us and wait for him to return from MacDonald's.

"We gonna have sex tonight?" he asks after swallowing a huge mouthful of his Big Mac.

"There's going to be hundreds of people at your house," I remind him, rolling my eyes.

"So? I have a lock on my door."

"No—everyone will know."

He sighs blatantly as if he thinks I'm overreacting. "Tomorrow then?"

"God, was I the virgin, or were you?" I tease him.

"I know but you're tight. And hot, and..._fuck_..." His eyes glaze for a moment before he takes another bite of his burger.

"Okay, I really didn't want to know that about myself..." I say dryly.

"You did pretty good, snotface," he says after moment of gauging me, his smile warm.

"Thanks..." I mumble, letting the snotface go for now.

"Seriously, I thought you'd freak out, but you...didn't."

"Yeah." I shrug, because what can I really say to that? He's right.

"We need to do it again—and soon." He's serious, I realise, and in response, I break into a small amused smile. I like that he wants me, no matter how strange it still feels.

"I'll stay over with you tonight," I offer.

"Your old man won't chuck a fit?"

"It'll be fine," I assure him. "When the party dies down and if you're not too drunk..." I allude, raising my brows.

"'Kay," he mumbles, satisfied. "What are you wearing tonight?"

"It's a secret."

He quirks an eyebrow. "We're not getting married. You can tell me."

"Red," I relent.

"Niiiiiice."

"You?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "We don't get much options. A suit."

"I'm looking forward to it." I am. A well-presented shithead is a sight to behold. Though, rugged, dirty, and smelling of sawdust, Edward is just as equally appealing.

He smirks, breaking my gaze long enough to take another humongous bite of his burger and shoving a handful of fries in his mouth.

"So what happens tomorrow?" I ask after listening to him enjoying his lunch a little too much. It almost sounds like foreplay, unless I just have it overrunning on my mind.

"What do you mean?" He pauses to glance up at me.

"You said we'd go out until the formal," I point out.

"The formal's not over yet."

"You know what I mean." I sigh.

"What do you think, you pain in the neck?"

"I don't know..." I mumble.

"So, you think I wanted to just fuck you and then cut you loose?" His voice drops and becomes almost serious, and I scoff, because he has a habit of putting words into my mouth.

"I didn't say that! And it was your idea, don't forget."

"Nothing's going to happen tomorrow. Jesus, Bella."

"So I passed?" I put to him.

"Of course you did." He jerks a shoulder and finishes his fries. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"To stop thinking I'm an arsehole. Actually, to stop thinking in general," he adds sarcastically.

"You want me to be an airhead, do you?" I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. Edward doesn't get angry as much as he does frustrated, but it's no consolation.

"Yeah, sure..." he mutters. "Bella, you're hot, you're smart and you're my girlfriend. You're doing shit right, so stop that doubting crap all the time."

"You are so up yourself," I say, flooding with affection for him. He sure knows how to take a girl's breath away.

"If I planned on breaking it off after tonight, I wouldn't have got you in the sack. I'm not a complete prick."

"Got me in the sack?" I echo.

"Stop that. You get me."

"I know. I do."

"Don't you ever get sick of it?"

"...Of what?" I hesitate, uncertain of his meaning.

"Having the same conversation over and over."

"We don't..." I say, but I'm not sure I believe it myself.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop thinking I'm an arsehole?"

"You think _I_ think you're an arsehole, but I don't. I never have."

"Why would you think I wanted to break it off after tonight?—after what we did last night?" he puts to me, and I realise he has me there.

"I don't know," I concede, breaking my eyes from his to set them on the table. "These last two weeks have been...not very conventional." Not the right words, again, but I know he'll understand my meaning.

"Stop _over thinking_ shit," he stresses. "All you need to know is that you're my girlfriend and that's not going to change."

"It isn't?" I ask in a small voice, meeting his gaze again reluctantly.

"Why would it? I like having you around—and in my bed." He breaks into that crafty smile of his again.

"I take it back. You really are an arsehole," I tease him.

"You like it, too, Rapunzel. You know you do."

"I do," I admit easily.

"New rules."

"Huh?"

"No apologising over the past and no comparing me to limp dick. Right?"

"I don't..." I don't finish as Edward groans loudly with growing frustration.

"Will you shut up and just agree to it."

"_Okay_..." I over-exaggerate it. "What happens if I break them?"

"Let me think about it." There's something sly about his expression, and I roll my eyes.

"Okay, fine."

"_Fine_," he imitates me, and picking up a small, dried, discarded fry he tosses it at me.

I swat it away and huff, but his words have impacted me, and already it's plunging me into uncertainty.

"You're not angry, are you?" I ask as we exit the escalator to the underground carpark. I have my hair appointment with Alice at 2:30 and time's running out.

He glances down at me, his brow creasing in confusion. "I'm not angry—you'd know if I was."

"I'm just..." But with a sigh, I let it go.

"You're just _what_?"

"I'm not very good at being a girlfriend..." I mumble, my eyes on the ground.

The air shoots from his nose, alluding to his continued frustration. "Will you look at me?" I do. "There's nothing wrong with you, except for the fact that you wasted your time on a fucking prick who put all this doubt in your head." He flicks my forehead in emphasis and hooks his elbow around my neck. "Once I get it out of you, you'll be fine." His lips plant to the top of my head before he releases me and takes my hand.

I straighten myself out and nudge him with my shoulder, but I'm unable to hold off the smile from spreading across my face. Despite all evidence to the contrary he really does have a way with words.

"I have very high standards, Bella, and you've always been at the top of them," he continues the conversation on the drive home, his eyes momentarily breaking from the road to glance at me.

I return his smile, but it's only brief. "On paper, Lauren is a lot prettier than I am."

He almost chokes. "Um—_what_?" He turns to me again as if he's in disbelief. "Is that what you think, is it?"

"Come on. What guy on the planet would rather a brunette over a blonde?"

"Me," he says simply, but I'm cynical.

"That's why you have Miss Blonde and Busty on your computer and not Miss _Brunette_ and Busty," I remind him.

"Bella..." he begins, fighting the obvious urge to grin, "I don't have her as my screensaver because she's blonde. I have her on it because she has big tits."

Okay, that should one have been obvious, and I have absolutely nothing to come back with.

"Jesus, Bella..." he murmurs, flicking his indicator to change lanes.

"What?" I mumble, but I'm fairly certain of his meaning.

"We're having the same conversation again."

"No we're—"

"How many times have I told you how beautiful you are?"

"You kind of have to say that."

"If I didn't think it I wouldn't be with you."

"I know..." I begin when he immediately interrupts.

"You know how many times I used to think about you when I was fucking her?" he admits completely straight faced, and if ever there was something I both loved and loathed equally that would be it.

"Edward..." I complain. "I don't want to know that—oh my god!" I'm suddenly recalling the moment several months back when Mike and I passed Edward and Lauren on the top floor of the mall. It was a Saturday afternoon and we were coming back from the cinema. Mike was holding my hand, and Edward had his arm casually slung around Lauren's neck. I groaned when I noticed him coming, and when my eyes met with his he flashed me his usual smirk.

"Snotface," he greeted me.

"Shithead," I replied sarcastically, thinking nothing of it.

"What?" Edward quizzes pulling me back to the present moment.

"You called me snotface in front of her," I say, shaking my head from the memory of it, and from my own disbelief.

"I called you snotface in front of her several times. I told you, it was our secret. "

"God, how could I forget...?"

"You want me to grab your tits?" he threatens, and he's not wholly joking.

"I'm such an..."

"Bella," he warns, his voice lowering. "Where did this come from—was it really him?"

"...What?" I'm not sure of his meaning.

"You having such a low opinion of yourself?"

"I don't. I mean... I don't know!" I burst, lost for words and becoming flustered.

"Did he ever tell you you're beautiful?" he asks, and my guess is he already knows the answer.

"Can we not talk about this...?" I appeal to him.

"He didn't. Jesus..." he mutters, shaking his head.

"Whether he did or not, it's irrelevant. Besides, I don't think I'm _ugly_," I clarify, wishing we could get off this topic. "Edward..."

"Everything I say to you... You don't believe me, do you?"

"Of course I do." I'm adamant, and for the most part I do. I just don't have the talent of saying everything that comes into my head the way he does. "And I love that you think I'm beautiful."

"But you don't believe it..." It's not a question this time.

"It's the same with every girl."

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck."

"I'm just not as self-assured as you are. Besides, there is such a thing as being modest."

"I'm a realist." He turns to me and winks. "Repeat after me."

"What?"

"Shut up and repeat after me."

"Repeat what?"

"I'm beautiful."

"...What?"

He groans loudly to himself. "Say 'I'm beautiful'."

"I'm beautiful," I humour him.

"I'm hot."

"Edward..."

"Stop your bitching and just say it."

"_I'm hot_," I say dryly.

"I want to fuck my boyfriend all night."

"I—oh my god!"

He laughs, pulling to a stop alongside my house. "Okay, get out. I'll see you tonight."

"Thanks for lunch, shithead." I lean naturally toward him and he inclines his head, allowing me to kiss him.

"Welcome." He plants his lips to my cheek, leaving them against me for a moment. "How you having your hair?"

"Up," I answer, closing my eyes as my face drags lusciously against the coarseness of his.

"Good—Jesus, you smell weird." He pulls back. "Have a shower." He grabs my nose again, and impatient, I shove him from me.

"You're an arsehole."

He laughs softly through his nose. "I'll pick you up at six."

"Okay. And... sorry about, well... you know..."

He sighs very pointedly and almost smiles. "I know. I just... I don't want you to think I'd ever hurt you like he did."

"He didn't hurt me," I insist, even as my voice falls to a whisper.

"Yeah he did," he says softly as if he's being conscious of my feelings.

I shake my head, changing course. "I don't think you'll hurt me like that."

"I won't. Anyway," he appears to shrug it off, "I think we just talk too much."

I almost laugh, because understatement of the universe. "No kidding."

"Would you bugger off?"

"_Bye_," I mock him, and then doing what he often does to me, I flick my index finger against his brow. I don't get the same result and Edward naturally thinks it's amusing, but for some reason I'm flooding with affection for him. I kiss him again, before placing my lips to his ear. "I love you," I whisper.

"Yeah, I know." Is his reply, albeit with a tenderness to his voice, but I'm already reacting to him.

"What...?" I utter, almost speechless, when he rolls his eyes.

"You know how I feel about you, you pain in the neck, now get out of my car!"

"I'm going!" Turning, I reach for the door handle.

"Hey..." he blurts, grabbing my hand, and when I meet his gaze over my shoulder he throws me a remorseful smile.

"What...?" I ask my voice softening by the length of vulnerability suddenly reflecting in his expression.

"Snotface," he says, but for the briefest moment I thought he was going to say something else.

It's enough, though. It's Edward.

"Shithead."

* * *

**A/N: What the hell is with these two. I don't even bloody know half the time. **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I have been in a serious funk with these two, but - and I don't want to jinx myself - I think the drought might be broken. I just had to hash out a few things and I think I've got it now. Ugh, I hate writer's block. Hate. It. Mate! Thanks for being patient with me, I hope this one makes up for my mini hiatus. **

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 23**

Edward arrives early. My mother wanted to take photos and she somehow got the message to him. I suspect she might have his number again, but right now, it's the furthest thing from my mind.

He looks devastating. I've never seen him in a suit before. It's black, well cut and tailored, and slim fitting. It makes him look taller. And broader. And even more good-looking.

He's had his hair cut; he must have got it done sometime after he dropped me home. His natural red highlights are more pronounced when it's short, and it's one of the main reasons he keeps it a little bit too long and unruly. He hates the idea of having red hair even though it's not considered red in the classical sense. It's a chestnut brown that gets streaked with gold in the summer.

It was lighter when he was younger; the kids called him "wranger", but only once. No one mocked him and walked away to do it again back then. Or now, for that matter.

My mouth actually fell open when I saw him. He smirked, of course, and I'm not sure whether it was over my reaction to him, or his reaction to me. My dress is slim-fitting as well—across the bodice at least—with off the shoulder sleeves in blood red chiffon. It falls to just below my knees in double layers, slightly longer in the back, and it flatters the lesser parts of my body; namely my deficient chest area.

"Jesus, snotface..." he practically growls into my ear after curving an arm around my waist and drawing me close to him. I tilt my head slightly to accommodate him. He smells entirely too good, and I'm wearing silver, strappy heels that help to somewhat close the height difference between us so I don't have to strain my neck too much. "I need to fuck you in this. And then out of it."

I nudge him gently with my elbow, maintaining the smile on my face for pretences. I'd really like to agree, and later on I will, but my father is watching, and the moment Edward arrived his expression began to darken in obvious disapproval. I'm not sure he'd be surprised by what Edward just said to me, and that's what concerns me.

"Stop it," I murmur, as my mother rushes forward to gush over him.

She kisses him and cups her palms to his face, telling him repeatedly how handsome he is. Edward obliges her, until his amusement begins to be marred by awkwardness. I have to practically drag her off him, and that's when I notice Edward's shoes. He's wearing black and white Chucks that don't look nearly as ridiculous with his suit as I would have thought. It's so typically him, though, so I say nothing. I actually kind of like it.

My mother takes several photos of us—from every angle—on the front lawn. The long stretch of heat and humidity has finally broken and the weather's mild, the breeze almost cool. With Edward's arm curled around my waist, though, it's lost on me. I'm warm against him, and to use Alice's phrase, I feel the need to squeeze my legs tightly closed.

I'm sure he's aware of it, but then that smirk of his is a permanent fixture on his face and often times I completely misconstrue it.

Alice and Jas arrive next, and my mother keeps the four of us chatting outside while we wait for the limousine. The driver is picking Rosalie and Emmett up first, and while Alice gets along with Rose, I don't exactly do. It's not that we've ever really spoken; she's just so full of herself I never really had anything to say to her.

And then there's the fact that she's slept with my boyfriend...

I like Emmett, though; it's hard not to. He's the same age as Edward and they both majorly bombed their HCSs and went on to do a trade.

The black stretch arrives five minutes later, and the moment it stops Emmett jumps out.

"Can I use your bathroom?" he asks Edward.

"You can use ours, sweetheart," my mother immediately offers without hiding the fact that she's sizing him up.

"Thanks, Mrs Swan," Emmett replies before he disappears inside, saying a quick hello to my father as he passes.

That's when Rose removes herself from the limo and approaches Edward.

"Can we talk?" she asks; though, it's not really a question. She ushers him a few feet to the side, pulling his hand from mine, and then wrapping her arm around his neck, she leans in to whisper something into his ear.

Edward's smile twitches broader and he nods. Rosalie releases him and that seems all there is to it, but I don't like it. Not one bit.

With Emmett back, the chauffeur opens the door and the five of us file inside while my mother continues overzealously snapping pics. Edward and I enter last, and instead of sitting beside Jas and Alice like I expected, he pulls me to the furthest seat at the front. At first I figured it was so he could feel me up—knowing Edward—until I realised it was because he wanted to be close to the bar fridge.

"I knew you had a thing for Bella," Rosalie notes after we set off for the hour drive into the city.

"Yeah? That obvious?" Edward replies, breaking into a full grin as he drops his hand to my knee.

"Since you could barely tear your eyes from her..." she adds rolling hers, and despite sounding her typical snotty self, a small smile tugs on my lips.

"He's been in love with her since the beginning of time," Alice pipes up, earning a bottle top thrown at her in retaliation. "God, you're a child."

Edward takes a mouthful of the coke he'd taken from the small bar fridge before turning and offering the bottle to me. I take a sip and wrapping his arm around my shoulders he pulls me tight against him.

"You look beautiful," he whispers against my hair. "And you don't smell as fucked up as you did this morning."

I grin, pushing my breath past it and planting my elbow into his ribs. "My mother bought me perfume to celebrate my _womanhood_."

"We'll celebrate your womanhood tonight," he promises, pulling back and winking with deliberate suggestion. I only sigh good-naturedly and he drops his nose to the curve of my neck groaning languidly. "What is it? Chanel?"

"Coco," I say surprised, turning to meet his gaze. "How'd you guess?"

"I'm a master." When he smiles this time there's something almost raw about it. "Actually..." he softly clears his throat. "My mum used to wear Chanel."

"What are you two whispering about?" Alice pipes up, breaking us from the moment.

"None of your business," Edward answers.

"Leave her alone," I chide him, and his grin this time is genuine.

"Hey?"

"Yeah."

"Stop getting bent out of shape."

"Huh?" My brow knots with confusion. "I'm not—about what?"

"You know about what..." His voice lowers as he very subtly tilts his head in Rosalie's direction.

I huff this time as a cover for my rapidly flushing face. I keep forgetting how well he knows me. In fact, I don't think I ever realised he could read me so well. "I'm not..." I repeat, sounding wholly unconvincing.

He bends his head closer to me and plants his lips to my ear. "She was making sure I don't spill to Emmett about her _drunken secret_," he whispers covertly, chuckling beneath is breath and through his nose.

"Ohh..." My reply is a little too long-winded as I attempt not to sound too relieved, while my gaze falls almost subconsciously to her.

She flashes me an almost sincere smile. _Almost_.

"I love your dress, Rose," I attempt to make nice. It's black and way too revealing considering she's not technically a call girl, but only she could pull it off.

"Thank you," she acknowledges simply, and I don't think she's convinced by my sincerity, or like me, she's probably surprised that I'm even talking to her, at all.

I usually don't initiate conversation, but with Edward beside me, I'm tapping in to dormant stores of assertiveness that obviously exist deep within me.

"She looks hot, hey?" Emmett jumps in before she can embarrass us both and bring it to my attention.

"Totally," Edward completely fabricates his agreement before leaning toward me to rest his lips to my neck again. "You're hotter," he whispers against my flesh.

I only roll my rolls, smiling discreetly to myself, but don't say anything. There's nothing I can say, and I want him to trust me; trust me that I believe everything he says.

**.**

"So, doesn't Emmett know?" I teasingly pry, after Edward and I exit the limonene and enter the Shangri-La lobby several feet behind Alice and Jas.

Scores of people from school have already arrived, and it's loud enough to mute our conversation. Though as we walk in together, more than half of them turn to openly stare.

Okay, Edward _was _Mr Popularity when he was at school, while I'm more on the shy, quiet side, but other than that I fail to see why the sight of us warrants so much gawking.

"Of course he doesn't know—he'd kick my arse," he admits candidly, and whether he's aware of all the attention centred on us he doesn't make it known.

"Did she cheat on him with you?" I ask, my voice dropping to a near whisper, and I'm glad for the distraction.

He chuckles, his hand squeezing around mine. "Nah, but he's always had a hard on for her."

After following Jas and Alice to the reception desk, we have our names checked off and are directed toward the elevators. The event is being held on the sixth floor reception room, and when we arrive a DJ is already set up in the corner, blasting music out over the dimly lit, romantically decorated ballroom. White ceiling drapes, adorned with fairy lights, hang from multiple angles to the huge crystal chandelier at its centre, and beyond the expansive wall of windows, the Harbour Bridge and Opera House loom before us against the backdrop of the ocean.

It's beautiful, and the rapidly filling room is abuzz with excited chatter.

For the most part the floor is carpeted, with hardwood sectioning off the dancefloor, dining area and small area set up for the photographer. On the opposite wall from the DJ is a smorgasbord full of desserts and refreshments, and naturally, this is where Edward immediately heads.

He drags me with him and I watch in amusement as he fills his plate to the brim; picking food off to eat as he does. He offers me bite of his macaroon, and after, his lips are immersed with the taste of sugar.

"Dinner will be served soon," I point out after we find our assigned table and sit down. Jas and Alice are already seated. As are Rose and Emmett, and half a dozen other people from our year.

"I know," Edward replies with a non-committal shrug, shoving a piece of fudge in my mouth when I open it to continue arguing. "Will you shut up?!"

"Edward!" I protest, almost choking.

Of course, he finds the sight of me coughing and spluttering hilarious before he leans in closer to me. "Okay, don't freak out," he murmurs against my ear, "but Lauren's here."

I almost head butt him as my back impulsively straightens and my head snaps up. "_What_?" I utter as my eyes automatically dart around the room. I find her sitting several tables deep to the right with Newton, his brother, and Jessica, and when my eyes meet hers, she glares at me coldly. I immediately sever them, feeling slightly flustered. "What the hell are they doing here?"

Edward shrugs again, and if he's bothered by their presence I can't tell. "Dunno, _but_"—curling his arms around me he pulls me out of my chair and onto his lap—"we can have _a lot of fun_ with it." There's a wicked glean in his eyes, and in emphasis he drops his face to the curve of my neck and presses his warm lips to my skin.

Immediately grasping his meaning, I go fluid against him, tilting my head as he plants kisses up along the contour of my neck to my jaw.

In response, and practically on autopilot, I run my hands to cup his face, angle his head to me, and take his lips with mine.

We get slightly carried away with each other, but with Edward, that's becoming an irrefutable rule. I am so drawn to him physically that it's a little too easy to lose myself. At the same time, I can trust him to keep his head, and just when I realize he's rapidly expanding beneath me, he lightens it and brings it down until it eases into a socially acceptable teasing.

"Stop that." He practically groans lowly, his lips against the base of my neck and shoulder as his hot breath floods over me

"Stop what?" I whisper, struggling to rein in my breath without making it too obvious to outside observers.

"You know what you're doing..." He pulls back to meet my eyes; his are dark, despite his smirk.

Shaking my head to myself in an effort to collect my thoughts, I turn towards Alice. That's when I realise everyone at our table is staring at me in various degrees of shock.

I only blink blankly, and it takes me a lot longer than it should have to understand why. When I was with Mike, we barely held hands in public, much less engage in foreplay with each other in front of half our year.

With my face rapidly flushing, I move to climb off Edward to my own seat when he prevents me.

"Stay put for a bit longer," he mumbles, the innuendo behind his voice clear; he's still a little too affected.

"Hm..." I mumble fighting the smile from forming across my face as I wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Why'd you get a haircut?" I ask, running my fingers through his syrupy-coloured hair in an effort to distract myself from what's happening beneath me. And, consequently, what's running through my veins.

"It was too long," he answers simply.

I tug on a strand teasingly. "You look preppy."

He breaks into a grin, and then leaning us both forward he grabs the open can of lemonade sitting on the table before him. "Don't be fooled." He winks and takes a gulp of his drink.

"They don't bother you, do they?" I ask quietly, because the idea of him being hurt by her right now is making me feel as volatile as it does protective.

He scoffs, his brow knotting as if he thinks it's ridiculous. "Why would they? And I like the fact that what she suspected about me was true."

"What did she suspect?"

"That I was into you."

"I like that, as well," I admit, making the smile on Edward's lips turn to a full grin. "But..." My expression falls almost subconsciously.

"But..." he urges taking a second sip.

"You said you thought you loved her..." I consider it as it spills from my lips, and I decide I don't like it.

And as if he's aware of exactly what's going on in my head he expels his breath in exasperation. "_Bella_...stop it."

"Stop...what?" I ask, uncertain of his meaning.

"That was before we were together, remember?" He quirks a brow to stress it further; reminding me of the conversation we've already had.

"Yeah, I know..." I mumble with an inward sigh, glancing down at the hand he has laying casually across my legs.

"I said a lot of shit back then to try and get your attention. That was one of them," he confesses as his shoulder jerks, but I only eye him sceptically.

"Really?" I'm not convinced.

"Yes, _really_," he imitates me.

I immediately nudge him, before taking a deliberate breath and conceding. "I still don't like the idea of you being with anyone else, but I won't be a _pain in the neck_ over it."

He flashes me a quick grin, his breath shooting from his nose. "I don't mind that you don't like it, 'cause I _fucking hated_ the fact that you were with that pencil dick," he angles his face closer to me and speaks covertly, but the intent behind his eyes isn't as ambiguous.

"I...lost sight of you," I admit softly in my continued guilt; at the same time, I'm hoping he'll somehow reciprocate it.

"I know," he replies, his voice tender behind it, and it appears to be his generic answer for his feelings for me.

It's silly, but it disappoints me.

"Hey?" I speak up.

"Hmm?" he replies, the can of lemonade against his mouth.

"I'll make you say it."

"Say what?" he asks, his lips twitching subtly because he knows exactly what I'm referring to.

"I love you," I say, and when he opens his mouth to reply with his usual response of "I know" I clamp my palm over it. "Nope."

"Stop being a pain in the neck," he says brushing my hand aside.

"Repeat after me."

"What...?" he complains.

"I love you too."

"I don't _love you too_," he says dryly, and while I know he's only teasing me it twinges deep inside my heart.

"I'm going to get off you and expose you to everyone?" I threaten him, but I'm as serious as he is.

"I'll drag your arse into the disabled toilets and fuck your brains out," he counters a little too loudly.

"Shh!" I blurt, clamping my hand to his mouth again as he laughs lightly behind it.

"Stop, trying to trap me into shit." He pulls my hand free, and while his voice is light, there's an edge to it that suggests he's unimpressed.

"_Trap you_?" I echo, unable to conceal the pain from my tone.

He sighs heavily and in obvious exasperation. "I don't say those words, you pain in the neck," he leans toward me again and confides practically beneath his breath, "but I feel that way about you without the need to say it—_okay_?"

"Why don't you say them?" I ask in a whisper even as I nod my head in answer.

"I told you why," he says, reaching up to rub his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He's frowning. "You forgot?" he pre-empts me.

"Y-yeah..." I admit ashamedly, and while I can somewhat remember the conversation, I can't recall the context. Edward and I always talked a lot, even as kids, and most of it has amalgamated together in my memories now, making it hard to differentiate. "I'm sorry..." I whisper.

"Didn't I tell you to stop that?" he reminds me, but his voice is gentle.

"I know..."

"We were kids," he says casually, and as usual, he's being too generous.

"You have a bloody photographic memory, Edward," I burst, frustrated at myself.

"I know." He smiles again, and it's his way of lightening the mood, but I know now that even if he puts on an overall front of indifference what's bothering him will always remain just below the surface.

"Can we talk later?" I prompt him seriously. "Tonight?"

He groans lowly and with more exaggeration than I suspect he's feeling. "No. Tonight I want to get drunk and then fuck you three times before morning."

"In the morning, then?" I'm not deterred as I raise my hand to his face, grazing my fingers across his marred cheekbone.

"I'll think about it," he relents, releasing his breath heavily and taking my wrist, "but it'll make shit a lot easier for me if you can just remember."

I nod and leaning against him I rest my lips against his temple. "Okay..."

"Okay, no more heavy shit." And to reiterate it he slips a palm along my thigh and beneath the material of my dress.

"I'm sitting on you to calm you down, not make you hornier," I point out, grabbing his hand as it gets a little too adventurous beneath the table.

He only smirks, when Emmett appears behind him and slaps his shoulder to grab his attention.

"What's up?" Edward asks, looking up and over his shoulder at him.

"Come outside for a sec, mate?" Emmett asks casually.

"Yeah, righto," Edward agrees, and after sliding over to my seat, he pulls himself to his feet.

"Back in a minute, booger," he murmurs teasingly against my ear before he follows Emmett out of the room.

"What's that all about?" I ask Alice, taking Edward's chair to sit beside her. Jas' seat is vacant as well, and I assume he joined Edward and Emmett, wherever they went.

She rolls her eyes and grimaces to herself. "Something stupid they're planning tonight, no doubt, but Bells, you know how much you flipped everyone out with Edward just now?" Her voice drops in confidence even as she snorts past the obvious urge to laugh. "Good thing you decided to go real, because I don't think you could have pulled it off pretending."

"Shh..." I nudge her, unable to prevent the smile from warming my face. "What's Lauren and Newton's brother doing here, anyway?—do you know?"

She sighs, her eyes darting quickly in their general direction before they focus back to me. "Apparently Lauren is Newton's date, and his brother is Jessica's. I guess they share bitches in their family." Her laughter this time is through her nose.

"Well, that's pathetic," I note, sharing her amusement, but my thoughts are occupied. "Alice...?"

"Hmm?" she asks after picking up a champagne glass filled with juice and bringing it to her lips.

"Why doesn't Edward say...a certain three words?" I lower my voice to emphasise the significance of it, but in return, Alice expression knots in confusion.

"What three words—_I love you_?"

"Yeah," I admit, biting on my bottom lip as my chest twinges with guilt. I'm not sure Edward would like me talking about this with her, but she knows him.

"You're up to that already?" Her eyebrows raise and a broad smile brightens her face. "You guys are seriously cute, you know that?"

"I know," my smile immediately echoes hers, "but... he said he told me why, only I can't remember."

"He told you why he won't say 'I love you'?" she clarifies.

"When we were young, yeah..."

She tilts her head to consider it before obviously coming up blank. "Not sure, but you know what he's like. He'll cave eventually. He's such a sap beneath it all." She sounds unfazed by it, and it lessens my concern a fraction.

"I know," I agree, but it bothers me that I can't remember; especially considering this one's obviously huge for him. "They're not going to get too drunk tonight, are they?" I decide to change the subject, but I'm as equally concerned about it. I want Edward as sober as possible.

"Probably." Her eyes roll a second time. "Why? What have you guys got planned?" Her expression becomes shrewd, and I sigh pointedly in hopes she'll let it go. Alice can get just as invested as my mother, and her repulsion over it involving her brother seems to be coming in second behind her curiosity over my newly acquired sex life.

"Nothing, but he's hard to hold off when he's drunk," I lie, and it's enough to convince her.

"Tell me about it."

By the time the boys come back the first course has already been served.

Edward takes his seat beside me and stares down at the three beef skewers before him. "Hang on... I ordered prawns..." His eyes drifts to my plate, where they narrow suspiciously before rising to mine. "You pain in the neck!"

The orders for dinner tonight were sent a week ago, but apparently _everyone_ ordered prawns for their entree, myself included. There wasn't enough to go round.

"You should have come back in time," I state lightly, picking up the last crumbed, butterfly prawn on my plate and meticulously dipping it in sweet and sour sauce.

"Oi!" Edward breaks in just as I'm about to take a bite.

"What?" I pause, feigning innocence.

"Trade?" He holds up a skewer pitifully.

"On one condition," I say, bringing it closer to my lips teasingly

"What?" he asks suspiciously.

"Don't get too drunk tonight." I'm serious, and in response he scoffs and plucks the prawn from my hand.

"I wasn't going to anyway." He shoves it in his mouth and grins.

"Then what were you, Emmett and Jas conspiring about?" I ask cynically.

"Guy stuff," he replies casually, and it sounds simple enough.

"Guy stuff?" I echo dubiously. "Are you serious?"

"Jesus you're nosy." He clamps my nose between his fingers like he always does. "Do I ever hassle you over the shit you get up to with midget?"

"Alice thinks you're planning a huge bender," I explain my reasoning, and I'm yet to be convinced.

He scoffs and tilts his head toward me. "The only bender I'll be having tonight is with_ you_, snotface." And turning directly to face me he winks.

Breaking into a secretive grin, I lean against him and curve my hand around his upper thigh beneath the cover of the table. "Seriously, she fucked around on you with _that_ guy?" I assert in near disbelief after I briefly catch sight of the four of them at their table. It's also more than satisfying to know that her eyes have barely left my boyfriend the whole night.

"Yep," he replies, snorting past it as he munches on the beef skewers left on his plate.

"She did it to get back at you," I rationalise, because no semi-functioning girl on the planet would leave Edward for a _Newton_.

"Yep, she did." He shrugs a shoulder offhandedly before he presses his nose and lips momentarily to the side of my head, "'Cause she knew my heart was elsewhere."

I only smile to myself and lightly shake my head, but I don't reply. Sometimes Edward in all this eloquence is enough

"Hey?" he pipes up, and when I turn to him he makes his intentions known. "Kiss me."

I do without hesitation; immediately tasting the tang of sweet chilli on his lips. Something I want more of.

"I'll say it to you one day, booger," he promises me, nuzzling his nose against my temple again. "Just 'cause it's you."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I'm late again. With all the fires raging through my state my allergies have been off the scale, and presently I'm fighting off a sinus infection. That's why when I finish a chapter I upload it unbeta'd. I feel bad, and I hate going longer than a week between updates.  
Anywho, this morning I realised I have 1000 reviews. I'm grinning like a lunatic over it. I love you all, and especially Kim who insists on pimping each update despite my threats of death XD. And to StarryEyedWriter8 for her support and sweetness.  
**

* * *

**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 24**

By the time we're done with dessert, Edward slumps in his chair, leans his head back and groans loudly.

"God, I feel sick..." he mutters, turning to gaze at me pitifully, his palm flat to his stomach.

"You shouldn't have eaten so much," I reply, rolling my eyes and feeling absolutely no sympathy for him.

Roast beef was served for dinner, and as well as eating his own, Edward polished off half of mine. I barely realized; he's a master of distraction. For dessert, I had baked cheese cake; I ate barely a third, and again Edward finished the rest as well as the Tiramisu he ordered. On top of which he drank another three cans of soft drink.

It's not hard to explain away the sudden sallow tinge to his complexion.

"I need to walk it off," he suddenly decides, rising to his feet and pulling me after him.

With his hand firmly entwined around mine, the other remaining splayed over his midsection, he leads me toward the elevators.

While the Shangri-la hosts various functions it's also a hotel, and on our way down to the city street below, we somehow find ourselves wandering aimlessly on the ninth floor. It wasn't by design. Edward turned sheet white in the elevator and promptly broke out into a sweat, and I knew I had to get him off and fast. Several people directed the lift up, and his stomach couldn't wait for it to go back down. I pulled him—a pasty, wet noodle, his palms clammy—out with the half-dozen or so guests and we went in search of a bathroom.

"It's already starting to pass," he reassures me, slowing the pace at which I'm anxiously dragging him behind me.

I'm not convinced; his stomach has been making alarming noises and I really don't want it all over me. We round several corners and then back-track, until we realise we're lost. Neither of us can remember the direction the lifts are in.

Several feet before us, in the softly-lit hall we've found ourselves in, a maid noisily exits one of the rooms, pulling a metal cleaning cart behind her.

"Excuse me," I call out; she looks up and smiles in question. "Can you tell us where the bathrooms are?"

"Third floor," she answers in a thick, South-East Asian accent.

"Thank you," I say politely, turning Edward back in the direction of where I think the elevators are situated, when he stops me. "What?"

He only tilts his head forward, emphasising the door of the room the maid just left. It's open ajar, and as I slowly discern his meaning, a cagey grin tugs at his lips.

"_No_," I whisper, but my objection is purely for pretences.

Gripping his hand tighter around mine, he pulls me ahead hastily, and just as the door's about to latch closed he uses his Converse sneaker as a stopper.

"Play along," he murmurs, and leaning forward, he presses his palm to the wall beside it and groans pointedly.

As expected the maid turns back to us, her eyes widening in concern. "Oh dear, is he okay?"

"He had too much to eat," I explain as her smile this time pulls in sympathy. "He just needs a moment."

Nodding her head, she turns and continues on her way.

Placing his index finger to his lips, his eyes glinting devilishly, Edward and I watch as she pushes the rattling cart around a corner and out of view. When we're satisfied we're alone, Edward slips into the room and tugs me behind him.

It's easily five stars, the furnishings are high quality and it has a humongous, plush king-size bed to the left side of the room. Its views are better than the ballroom where our formal's taking place, too, and walking over to the window's ledge, I peer out over the harbour.

"Oi," Edward speaks up from behind me, and when I turn to face him he sinks his hand into his pants pocket and pulls out a condom.

My mouth immediately falls open, but I can't prevent the smile from pulling simultaneously. "Did you plan this?" I ask suspiciously.

"Serendipity, snotface." His grin is sly; mine quickly follows.

"_Serendipity_?" I echo unconvinced. "You're a scoundrel."

"I like to be prepared. So... how about it?" He waggles his brows, his smile this time cheesy.

"What if we get caught?" I point out, making my way over to him regardless as a fire immediately kindles in my belly.

"Who says this room is even booked?" he ventures, his grin rapidly expanding when he realises I'm more than on board.

"What if it is?" I ask, reaching out and tugging on his black tie, drawing him to me.

"If it is, it's Saturday. Whoever reserved it won't be back for hours," he assures me, a rustic edge beginning to alter the timbre of his voice.

"You sure?" I'm being deliberately coy, but beneath my skin a war is being waged between my default setting of rational, too-much-like-my-father Bella, and the newly sexually emancipated me who has snagged herself the crazy-hot guy next door. I continue inching backward, little by little, pulling Edward with me, and he takes it as confirmation.

"This is all your fault," he all but growls as he snakes both arms around my waist, and drops his lips to the base of my neck. They're burning, and his face against mine is a lot warmer than I was expecting.

"How so?" I ask, tilting my head to the side and closing my eyes as my breath gushes from me.

Continuing to walk me backward toward the bed, he plants those firm lips of his up and down my throat, igniting me inch by painful inch, before placing them to my ear. "Who was it who stuck her tongue in my mouth in front of everyone?" he reminds me, dropping his face to the curve of my neck and shoulder, a hand gingerly slipping beneath the chiffon bodice of my dress. "And who was it who wore _this_ knowing exactly how much it would fuck with me?" His voice is low, a grit to it already, and with a sultry hot hand fully covering my breast, I practically swoon in his arms.

It still surprises me how my body reacts to him. Like a light switch, it can turn off and on in a heartbeat and at will by just that ridiculously appealing smile of his. I'm overrun with an onslaught of both nervousness and red, hot desire, and it makes for an intense combination.

"Hurry," I whisper out the double-edged meaning.

I've backed up against the bed with nowhere else to go, and in a single motion, Edward lays me back on the edge of it and rests his long, lean body over me.

We kiss, and kiss more, while clumsily and blindly undoing Edward's belt and pants, and shoving clothes and underwear out of the way. It amazes me how your body can function entirely on impulse, almost subconsciously, while your mind completely surrenders to your senses.

And then he's inside me, hot and implacably hard, while my breath, my voice and every thought rushing inside my head, stops.

We talked a lot the first time. Too much, but I've since learned that it's so much better without words. A thousand emotions can be expressed through the eyes and behind them, and even more through touch; through lips and fingers, and skin connecting.

I feel him now like I felt him last night, but it's different this time. His feet are braced on the floor, his weight against me secondary, while the pressure behind each movement he makes goes deeper than I was prepared for. It's pain, a definite tenderness, but a strange, dull pleasure, and everything in between, amalgamating as something different altogether. Something more. Behind it, a flame is flickering within me, spreading and expanding like a river, a current, through my veins until every square inch of my skin is awash with it.

Edward's entire body is both tense and malleable over and within me, his breath is becoming forced, the few words he speaks are restricted, and then swallowed by the energy rapidly consuming us both.

My arms slip from around him and flop against the thick covering of the bed we're completely unmaking, but they're restless—I'm restless—and I need something to grab onto. My fists enclose around the bedding, and almost on impulse, they tense, my back arches, and I rise and push us both semi-upright.

"Hey," he utters out in a hopelessly gravelly voice as a drunken, askew smile pulls on his lips.

"Hey," I echo over my shortening breath. My grin is as impulsive and subconscious as his, and I hook my arm around his neck and secure myself further against him.

His mouth open and heated connects clumsily and repeatedly against mine, until his dampening face slides forward, his chin thudding to his chest as a guttural moan spills almost silently from his lips. "Bella..."

I barely hear him, but the arm I'm leaning against is beginning to strain. I can't maintain his body weight as well as mine for much longer, and in the next moment I fall backward, with Edward landing flush on top of me.

Bracing his hands on either side of me, he eases his chest off mine as he continuously moves himself into me. He's being a lot rougher than he was the previous two times, but at the same time, I understand that he's completely surrendered himself to the sensation of my body as much as I have with his.

The peak I was climbing is beginning to plateau behind the realised ache of my still-healing body, but Edward keeps climbing; higher and higher. His entire frame begins to tremor, the exertive, breathless sounds coming from deep in his throat, get louder, and seemingly unable to contain it, he buries his face into the crook of my neck.

"Bella, I-I-I-I-I..." he utters, pulling himself back again, his forehead contorted as he obviously fights to hold onto the energy multiplying within him.

I understand that feeling now; wanting to draw something out and surrender to it simultaneously. But I know, I understand, what he's trying to say, and nodding my head, feeling suddenly anxious for him, I cup my hand to his cheek. "I know. It's okay. You don't have to say it..."

He nods in return, but I'm not sure he's even aware to what context anymore.

"I know..." he repeats in barely a whisper, and uttering out a barely-muffled groan, his elbows buckle beneath him and his chest crashes back to mine.

That's when I realise it's over, and I'm left slightly lost for words. It was no more than ninety mind-numbingly intense seconds, leaving us both quivering and gasping against each other in its wake.

"Fucking hell..." Edward attempts to articulate it, in disbelief as much as awe, as his voice clogs in the back of his throat. Then, pulling his head up from me, he grins disjointedly, and I laugh—my voice hopelessly hoarse—at his flushed, sweaty face, and almost bloodshot eyes.

That's when I feel him slide limply from my body and get snagged in the elastic leg of my underwear.

A reflexive, pain-filled sounds bursts from him as he jerks himself free, and covering his afflicted anatomy in both his hands he flops to his back and half groans, half laughs. "Oh, Jesus..."

I roll against him, my still-heaving chest meeting his. "You okay?" I ask, unsure whether I should be concerned or laugh along with him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures me, albeit in a restricted voice, and releasing a hand he cups it to the side of my neck. "You're a hot mess, snotface." His smile is tender; a side of him I suspect dominates when he comes down.

"Am I?" I ask, biting my lower lip. "Do I look... _obvious_?"

"Yep." He laughs through his nose; at my expression, I suspect.

"Crap!" I sit up, both hands flying to my hair. It's a disaster; something I confirm after I race to the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look as ravished as I feel. Along with the mayhem that's my hair, my face is flushed, my eyes a little too bright, and my lipstick smudged.

While Edward pulls himself somewhat back together, I do what I can to un-just-had-sex myself. Grabbing my small clutch from the hotel floor where I'd abandoned it, I reapply my make-up, but my hair is a definite lost cause. I decide to pull it free and let it hang loosely around my shoulders. My up-do made it curlier than usual, and I almost talk myself into believing that I could have arrived tonight with it deliberately styled like this.

"Come on..." Edward hurries me along, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the door.

"Sure I look okay?" I ask him one last time before we leave.

"You look hot," he drawls with a smirk, clamping my nose with his finger.

I roll my eyes and swat his hand away. "How you feeling, faker?"

"Pretty good." He gazes down at me and winks.

Alice and Jas immediately zero in on us. So does Emmett and Rose, and let's face it, more than likely the whole table.

"You got a room?" Emmett asks Edward with obvious interest and not nearly as in confidence as I would have liked.

"Nah," Edward answers simply as I full-body cringe and attempt to hide myself beneath his arm.

We sit back at the table, and grabbing my chair, Edward drags it closer to his. Then curling his arm around my shoulders, he presses his lips to the side of my head and against my hair. "Thanks, Bella," he murmurs, and sometimes it's nice without the _snotface_.

Turning my head, I meet his lips with my own. "Welcome."

"Wanna dance?" he proposes after my eyes inadvertently meet the hard glare of his ex-girlfriend. This time I smirk blatantly, openly, and scoff. "What?" Edward quizzes curiously, following my gaze. "_Oh_... someone's bent out of shape." He snorts, clearly amused by the fact that she is.

I hum in return, elbowing him in the ribs in emphasis. "Well, _who was it _who implied on my Facebook—at the start of all this—that we'd been screwing around since _June_?" When they were still technically together.

"Erm..." He mumbles, sounding almost sheepish if he didn't start snickering.

"Did you use me to get back at her?" I ask, turning to meet his eyes and raising a very pointed brow.

"Sorta," he admits, shrugging a shoulder as his grin twitches broader. "Thought I'd kill two birds with one stone." He winks again, and I sigh heavily.

"Oh my god."

"Stop bitching—let's dance!" Grabbing my hand he yanks me a little too roughly to my feet and leads me onto the dancefloor.

After dinner the DJ began playing slow songs and it seems to have become the status quo. Half the room is dancing it appears, and after finding a place on the outskirts of the six by six metre hardwood floor, Edward draws me to him.

He curves his arms around my waist, and with my elbows against his I rest my hands to his shoulders. He's too tall to wrap them around his neck, and I do need to see what I'm doing. He moves me side to side, back and forth, slowly—and clumsily, considering I keep colliding with his feet.

He smirks, and shakes his head before he bends his head to speak against my ear. "You overthink everything, don't you, you pain in the neck?"

"Shut up," I retort, just as he's shoved from behind and into me.

He struggles to keep me on my feet, and after righting me, he whips around, grabbing the offending dancer in one motion and shoving him forcefully away from us. "You got a fucking problem!?" he snaps angrily, his expression suddenly very hard and unforgiving.

Given the amount of people dancing, at first I assumed it was an accident, until I saw who it was; Mike Newton's brother. And by the look on his face it was as deliberate as Edward suspects it was.

Edward had pushed him a good six feet back and into several people who all turn to stare. And Newton's brother—whatever the hell his name is—pulls himself back to his feet, and stands his ground, deliberately goading him. I almost pity him; intelligence obviously doesn't run in the Newton gene pool. I know the kind of damage Edward will cause if he pushes him. I've witnessed him in more fights than I care to recall growing up; as recently as only a couple of years ago. The last one ended in two seconds—if that. It was at school, and some arsehole in his P.E class grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him around. Edward reacted almost as if it was instinct. One punch is all it took, and he walked away without looking back; the idiot lying barely conscious and flat on his back against the concrete.

He might not stand up to his father, but he sure as hell makes up for it. It's where all his anger gets diverted.

"Come on," I coax him back, and turning to me, huffing his breath stiffly, he allows me to pull him to the other side of dancefloor. "Don't worry about them," I attempt to placate him, but for the next several minutes his expression remains dark and stormy. "Hey..." He's starting to worry me.

"What...?" he mutters, his eyes focused over my shoulder, his frown etching deeper.

"We can have _a lot of fun_ with it," I tease him, echoing his earlier sentiments after stretching on my toes to close the height difference between us.

He smiles and almost fully succumbs to it. "We have to make it convincing, because if you go all virgin on me and make it obvious, I'll be really pissed off." And just like that shithead is back. It was something he said to me in the days when we were still _pretending_, and for whatever strange reason I love him more for it.

"You are such an arsehole," I reply, my voice overrun with affection for him, and rising on my toes again, I kiss him.

We fool around, getting a little too heated with each other, but beneath it all, it's light-hearted. I forgot how much fun I have in his company, even when he's completely groping me in public.

"Why are people staring at you, snotface?" he mumble against my ear after practically sucking hickies along my throat.

"You know why..." I say ruefully, nudging him.

"They can't believe good little Bella is going out with such a bad boy like me?" he angles his head back and arches a teasing brow.

"Something to that effect."

"You call me a faker..." he alludes.

"What's that mean?"

"I got you in the sack in a week," he leans in and murmurs against my earlobe again. "You didn't even attempt to fight me off."

I scoff and partially shake my head. "Maybe I_ wanted _you to _get me in the sack_."

"Did you?"

"Yeah," I reply simply.

"I'm pretty irresistible, aren't I?"

I roll my eyes. "God, you're up yourself."

He chuckles softly, and draws me closer to him. "See, your body knew you were selling yourself short with that pencil dick, so it went into hibernation until I woke it up again."

"Got it all worked out, haven't you..."

"I've had you worked out since you were five." Removing an arm from around my waist he clamps my nose again.

"Will you stop doing that!" I shove his hand away.

"Just shut up and kiss me." He grins, and I do, until a low-sounding groan vibrates against my lips. "Shit..." he pulls back.

"What?"

"My stomach..." He splays his hand over it, lower down this time.

"Self-inflicted," I joke, but he's turning pasty again.

"I'll be back in a moment," he says, his voice beginning to restrict. "Go sit with midget."

"You okay?" I put to him, my voice softening. All jokes aside, he looks terrible all of a sudden.

"I will be," he mutters before turning both of us in the direction of the exit.

I walk with him as far as our table and watch him leave the room; slightly hunched over.

"Apparently we're having a class photo soon," Alice leans toward me and says after I take my seat beside her.

"Yeah?"

"What?" she prompts, her forehead creasing curiously.

"Nothing." I half shake my head. "I mean, Edward ate too much and now he doesn't feel very well..."

Alice immediately snorts, not in the least bit concerned for him. "That will teach him for being such a pig. Hey?"

"Yeah?"

She moves closer and drops her voice covertly. "Did Edward really get a room?"

I break into an almost impulsive smile. "No. It was... _serendipity_."

"Huh?" she asks blankly.

"We got lost and sort of wandered into one by accident," I explain simply.

"Nothing with Edward is _ever _by accident," she replies cynically, and I laugh.

"Leave him alone. Where's Jas?"

"He and Emmett went to the bar."

"Ah..."

"You guys had photos together, yet?" She tilts her head behind us where the display is set up.

"Not yet."

"Want to get some done?—just us?" she ventures.

"Sure."

There's a lot of props—thought bubbles, hats, masks, and signs—and Alice and I have too much fun with various silly poses that we quickly get lost in the moment. At least forty minutes has passed when Alice links arms with me and turns in the direction of our table.

"Come on, we have to get the boys in these, too." She giggles.

I glance over at the near empty seating arrangement. Edward isn't back yet, and neither are Jas and Emmett.

"He's probably joined them down at the bar," Alice answers the question formulating in my mind.

"Yeah," I mumble. "I hope he's feeling okay..."

"He'll be fine," she insists. "Let's go drag their arses back up here."

We don't make it out of the room when Rose catches up with us. Moving herself between me and Alice she drapes an arm around us both. "You'd better come outside. The boys have been thrown out and Edward's about to get arrested."

"_What_?"! I burst in unison with Alice as my heart practically stalls. "What for?"

"Just come on," Rose mutters, ushering us toward the elevators in the foyer.

It's a long thirty seconds to the ground floor, and while I'm locked in silence, Alice pesters Rose for information.

"I'm not sure what happened, but it's not good," is all she gives away.

The moment the doors open to the lobby it's obvious there's some kind of commotion happening. Large groups of people are gathering, all headed in the same direction, their chatter animated.

Alice breaks into a run despite the length of her heels, and attempting to keep up with her, I follow her out of the building to the street.

To the right side off the entrance a crowd has formed, obscuring what's obviously a fight taking place. The sound is unmistakable; the sickening thuds of fists connecting with flesh and bone, repeatedly. I cringe almost instinctively, knowing what I'm about to happen upon and wanting to shy away from it. But I don't. Almost as if I'm on auto-pilot, I shove through to the front of the crowd and for several agonising seconds I cannot make sense of what I'm seeing.

Edward, his face bloodied and battered, is beating the life out of Mike Newton.

For one horrifying moment I feel like my knees are going to buckle beneath me. I shake my head, my hands clamping down over my ears. It doesn't make sense; there is no way Mike could have caused this amount of damage to Edward, especially when Edward is currently beating the crap out him.

"Edward!" I yell, my voice practically breaking, but he makes no indication of whether he heard me or not.

I whip my head around, looking for someone who can stop it. My eyes fall to Emmett. He's preventing Mike's brother from intervening and from the looks of him he's as angry as Edward is, and that's when I notice his hands; his knuckles are bleeding.

"Alice!" I call out, glancing around hastily and in panic as my eyes search the crowds for her.

"Bella!" She grabs me and turns me to her roughly. "They jumped him when he was coming back from the bathroom!" She's practically in tears and that's when I notice Jas beside her, almost as bloodied as Edward is. "Four of them against him!"

I shake my head, more forcefully this time but I'm beginning to feel physically sick. "_What?_—no! Jas, please stop it."

He only shakes his head in reply; there's a helplessness ingrained in his expression but a resolve at the same time.

"Alice!" I plead with her, but I'm not sure what she can do.

"Someone came and got Jas and Emmett—or they could have killed him!" She bursts into tears, and pulling her into his arms, Jas turns to me.

"Bella, take Ally and go back inside, okay?"

"No!" I demand. I'm not going anywhere, despite my flight instincts kicking in and overrunning my senses.

That's when someone forcibly grabs my arms and shakes me. "Get your crazy fucking boyfriend off him!" It's Jessica and she looks as panicked and overwrought as I feel.

"Get off me!" I holler back, and pushing her away from me, I turn back to Edward. He has Mike up against the concrete of the adjoining building by the scruff of his shirt, while Mike looks seconds from unconsciousness.

That's when Emmett intervenes. "He's had enough, mate," he speaks quietly to him.

For several moments Edward doesn't respond, but I watch as his body slowly unlocks and he turns and shoves Mike to the ground. "Piece of fucking shit!"

Mike only rolls sluggishly to his side and curls himself into a ball, covering his face in his arms pitifully.

"C'mon," Emmett directs him, and wrapping an arm around Edward's shoulder, he turns him, stumbling over his feet, in my direction.

His gaze meets mine then, and he pauses just as something in his expression fractures. Blood is pouring from his nose, as well as from a cut above his eyebrow. It's smeared all over his face and into his hair, and has spilled onto his stark white shirt. He looks so terrible, my heart immediately clenches in fear, and fighting back tears I hold my hand out to him.

"I'm sorry..." he mouths, shaking his head slowly back and forth as his expression begins to mirror mine.

* * *

**A/N: Kim has been hassling me to do an EPOV. So far I'm not sold. What do you reckon? Yeah? No?**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I think it was 53 yays and 3 nays, so here he is.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked  
Chapter 25**

**Shithead**

"Did you lose consciousness?" The ambo asks, leaning before me and flashing a penlight in my eyes.

"No," I reply irritated. I did, though, lose consciousness. For how long, I'm not sure. I came to to the cunts laying into me.

Fucking pricks.

I'm sitting on the set of steps that lead to the entrance of the Shangri-La with Bella beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. She's already worried about me, and I don't want to freak her out more, but I really do feel like shit. My head aches, I feel dazed, it hurts to fucking breathe, and my hand is killing me. I think I might have broken it. I don't know. I'm trying to remember a time where I've felt worse; nothing comes to mind, though.

"Edward, I'm concerned you have a concussion," the paramedic seems to conclude. It's the second time he's said that now, and for the last five minutes, he's been attempting to convince me to go to hospital. It's not going to happen. I've already fucked Bella's night, and I don't have a spare four hundred bucks to blow on an ambulance I don't need.

Yeah, some bright spark called them, as well as the cops. They're getting hold of the security cameras, so Newton's fucked.

Turning my head, I glance over my shoulder at him. He's on the other side of the road spewing his guts up into a puke bag. I smirk to myself, but I kind of feel like joining him if I'm being honest.

"Come in the back for a moment, mate, and I'll take your blood pressure," the ambo urges me, holding out his hand.

"I'm _fine_—for fuck's sake!" I burst, becoming impatient. I just want to get home and drink this fucking headache away.

"Edward, _please_ just do it!" Bella insists. She's growing steadily pissed off, but I prefer it to her bawling over me. There's nothing more pitiful than her big brown eyes welling with tears. It makes her look like that dorky little kid she once was – always crying because I was constantly teasing her.

I tried to keep this shit away from her, but I was pretty naïve to think the bastards wouldn't try something tonight.

"No," I say simply, shrugging a shoulder like an arsehole, and she huffs and scowls to herself. She's pretty cute when she tries to get all forceful with me, and I have to fight off the smirk. Right now, I think she might belt me one; her emotions are pretty frayed. "I'm _fine_, you pain in the neck," I say for added measure, but she's not convinced.

"_Fine_?" she echoes like I'm out of my mind, her voice breaking. If she cries again, I'm going to fucking lose it.

"I just want to check it," the ambo assures me. "It doesn't mean I'm going to transport you to hospital."

"Righto—Jesus..." I cave, and grabbing the handrail, I sluggishly pull myself to my feet. That's when the ground fucking slants, and I almost nosedive back into the concrete. The paramedic immediately grabs hold of me; so does Bella. "I'm going to..." I throw up before I can get the words out. All over Bella's feet.

She shrieks and lurches back away from me impulsively, and then of course, she bursts into tears.

"Sorry, snotface," I utter, pretty pathetically as I attempt to hold in the next round. Jesus, this is worse than being drunk.

The paramedic drags my semi-conscious arse to the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. I think I black out for a moment, and when I come to again, Bella's back beside me. She's removed her shoes and her feet are wet; she looks like she wants to slap me and hug me simultaneously. I'm actually surprised she didn't chuck a fit altogether; I guess I'm still underestimating her. It's hard to believe the royal pain in the fucking neck actually admitted to being in love with me.

I mean, I had my suspicions, but it still shocked the hell out of me. I really thought she'd take it to her grave.

I have to say it back. I'm just not sure if I can.

"Eighty over sixty," the paramedic mumbles to himself as he pulls the Velcro strap from my arm.

Bella gasps.

"Would you stop _over-fucking-reacting_!?" I snap, closing my eyes. My head's pounding and the fucking ambulance is starting to spin.

"Stop trying to be brave, you bloody idiot!" she blurts back, her fingers running through my hair. "Christ, Edward..."

"I'm okay..." I utter, struggling to take an even breath and bring myself down. "Just give me a Panadol, or something..."

"I want you to stay put for a moment until your blood pressure rises," the paramedic instructs me, and I open my eyes to the sound of plastic being torn open. He pulls a bandage from its packaging and starts to bind my right hand. "Move your fingers for me." I do; they're stiff and they ache like a motherfucker, but they seem to work alright. "I don't think it's broken," he assures me. "More than likely sprained."

"I'll live," I say, draping my left arm over my eyes. "Fuck, my head..."

"Can you tell me your name?" a second ambo asks.

"Edward Cullen," I mumble.

"Date of birth?"

"June 20th 1999—I'm not telling you my address," I pre-empt him, because all I need now is the old man to find out.

"His pupils are dilated," Ambo One informs him.

I groan half beneath my breath, but don't say anything. My stomach feels like shit and Bella will never let me forget throwing up over her once, let alone twice.

"You going to tell me what happened?" her voice invades my aching head in a whisper.

I shake it clumsily back and forth. "Later..." She sighs, sounding close to tears again. "Oi?" I half open my eyes and squint up at her. "No more crying—'kay?"

She cracks a small smile and nods, even as tears fall down her cheeks.

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck," I complain, reaching out to wipe them dry with my bandaged hand. "Ow!"

"Just rest for a moment—you're scaring the crap out of me!" she exclaims in that screechy voice of hers, but I get it. I've freaked her out.

I expel my breath heavily and close my eyes again. I feel so fucked I really don't have a choice, and for the next several minutes she soothes my throbbing head by running her fingers over my forehead. I'm practically half asleep when a rough-sounding voice invades it.

"My name's Constable Black, are you able to take a statement?"

I open my eyes again and frown. "Yeah..."

"You're Edward Cullen, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what happened, Edward?" He opens his notepad and brings his pen to it, eyeing me as he does.

I clear my throat awkwardly before I reluctantly begin. "I was coming back from the bathroom and the bastards surrounded me. One of them decked me from behind. I don't really remember much after that. I kinda came to when security were dragging us out. Emmett and my sister's boyfriend were there, as well. I don't remember when they got there. I heard someone told them what was going on, but I dunno who."

"What happened outside on the street, after?"

"I gave that piece of shit a huge dose of _payback, _that's what happened." My voice automatically restricts, and Bella huffs as if she's exasperated; the constable almost seems to smirk, though.

"Who would that be?" he asks.

"Mike Newton."

"Was he one of the people you mentioned who surrounded you inside the building?"

"Yeah, him and his brother and two other guys I don't really know."

"Who would his brother be?"

"Jason."

"Jason Newton?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Thank you, Edward." He flips his notebook closed and flashes me a quick grin.

"Is that all?" It seemed too easy.

"That's all."

"You gonna charge me?"

"Considering there are several witnesses who've backed up your statement that you weren't the instigator, no."

"Thank fuck..." I murmur, closing my eyes again, and beside me Bella huffs again. "Stop bitching," I head her off, smiling slightly to myself regardless of how crap I feel.

"You're driving me mental," she grumbles.

"I know, but you love anyway."

She scoffs. "No more snotface, _spewfest_."

"Didn't we already go over that?" I remind her, and she prods my shoulder too gently, like I'm a cripple.

"Shut up. I'm bloody stressed out." She runs her hand over her forehead and breaks my gaze.

"Geez, I'm alright," I insist, rolling my eyes because she's seriously over dramatizing it.

"No you're not," she counters, her voice getting all choked again, and I groan loudly this time.

"Bella—stop it."

"Okay, Edward," the first ambo comes into my line of sight again, "you're showing signs of a concussion. You really do need an MRI done."

"Tomorrow." I jerk a shoulder, and attempt to sit back up, but my fucking ribs all but spasm and he forces me back against the gurney.

"Do you have a way of getting home?" he asks.

"Yeah. What time's the limo getting here?" I turn and ask Bella; she's pouting.

"Half an hour," she says in a wavering voice.

"Half an hour," I repeat for the ambo's benefit.

He nods but it's obvious he's not happy about it. "Okay." He checks and rechecks my blood pressure, and when it gets to one hundred over ninety he lets me go.

My legs are like jelly, and I'm so fucking light-headed I need to rely on Bella more than I'm happy with. Thank Christ, Emmett and Jas come to rescue her. Jas looks pretty banged up, though.

"What happened to you?" I ask him as they drag me across Harrington Street toward the parked limo.

"It was still three against four," he explains away his swollen top lip.

"Hey, thanks, mate—fucking cunts..." I mutter.

"No worries," he replies. "Newton's _gone_ though. Something tells me tomorrow's off." He snickers as I all but bloody groan to myself, and just as expected, Bella jumps all over it

"_Tomorrow_?" she repeats.

"It's nothing," I say, but she only flashes me that expression she gets when she knows I'm bullshitting.

"It was 'sposed to take place tomorrow," Emmett fills her in.

"What was?" She turns her wide eyes back to me. "Were you planning on fighting him?"

"It was Newton's idea—he set it up," I say in my defence because she's back to looking pissed off.

"It was all bullshit," Jas adds. "A cover to get to Edward early."

"Edward..." Her voice gets all weepy again.

"Snotface..." I complain. "I'll tell you everything tonight—I promise."

She bites on her bottom lip and nods to herself, and the pain in the neck is gonna cry again. "All right."

"Where's midget?" I ask, forcing my gaze from her. Rose is MIA, as well.

"Sorting your ex out," Emmet says snickering.

"What did that bitch do?" I suddenly demand as my head snaps back to Bella, but apart from looking all over-emotional there isn't a scratch on her.

"She started shit with Rose," Emmett answers, reaching out to open the back door before the chauffeur can get out of the front.

"She wanted to start shit with _me_," Bella corrects him behind a heavy breath. "Rose was just sticking up for me." She frowns and there's something culpable on her face.

She's such a pain in the fucking neck she's probably blaming herself for everything. The reality is, though, I'm the one she should be blaming. I started this whole bullshit tonight.

"We've got it, mate," Jas informs the limo-drover as he and Emmett help me into the backseat.

I slump along the side-facing seating, yanking on my tie; I suddenly feel like it's choking me. Bella moves beside me and helps me out of my jacket. I wince pathetically and try not to make it obvious how much pain I'm in. I'm not sure I'm fooling her, though.

"The paramedic gave me this." She holds up a puke bag in emphasis, and I groan.

"I'll be fine. I feel a shit ton better," I outright lie, and yeah, she's not buying a word of it.

"Come here," she whispers, and leaning closer to me she unties my tie and unbuttons the collar of my shirt. "Lay down."

I was planning to anyway, and stretching out along the seat, I rest my head in her lap.

She bends over me, and I'm suddenly engulfed by the scent of her perfume. Earlier tonight it was fucking hot, but right now it's beginning to churn my stomach. It doesn't last long, though; she plants her lips to my forehead and sit's back up.

Closing my eyes, I moan pitifully and reach out to grab her hand. "Bella..."

"You okay?" she asks softly.

"Distract me."

She grazes her fingers over my brow and down the sides of my face, and it's blessedly fucking distracting. "No falling asleep," she tells me.

"I'm not..." I mumble. I am.

"You have to keep talking." Her hand pauses.

"You want me to puke?—don't stop."

Her hands move to my hair this time, her fingertips running slowly over my scalp. "I'd rather you puke than fall into a coma."

I sigh dryly because she's such a bloody drama queen. "I'm not going to _fall into a coma_."

"Don't be an arsehole!" she snaps, but I can hear it in her voice; she's more worried about me than she is pissed off.

The door of the limo opens again and I feel the motion of Rose and Alice climbing inside, along with their loud fucking chatter. Alice's tone of voice is always on a high fucking octave, and right now it feels as if it's being drilled through my skull.

"Alice—shut the fuck up!" I moan, as I attempt to shut her out, and pressing my head against her lower stomach, Bella covers my other ear with her hand. "Thanks, booger..." I murmur.

"Welcome, _spewfest_," she leans down and teases me.

"Stop that," I reply, even as my lips twitch in response.

I hear her soft laughter; it washes over my face all warm and heated, and I'm suddenly reminded of what her mouth tasted like tonight; cheesecake and Fanta. I moan again faintly for a whole ton of reasons; primarily because I know I'm not going to get that dress off her any time soon. Not unless I make a miraculous recovery.

How I survive the trip home without puking is anyone's guess. The motion of the car was torture, and getting out of the city was the worst of it. Stop, start, stop start, every two fucking seconds. Once we hit the M5 it eased up, though. Bella lulled me to sleep, but my churning stomach woke me enough times to reassure her that I wasn't in a _coma_.

By the time we arrive home, I'm not sure I can physically walk. I really want to crawl, fucking pitifully. Jas and Emmett help drag my decrepit arse out, but instead of taking me to my house, they take me to Bella's.

"Bella... I don't want your old man to see me like this," I put up somewhat of an offensive. He already hates me, and I really don't want to give him any more ammunition against me by vomiting all over his floor.

"He's gone to work," she reassures me, and thank fucking Christ for that.

Her mother opens the front door and from the expression on her face she was expecting us. "Oh, you poor darling." She places her palm to my cheek as I pass.

"Hey, Mrs Swan," I speak in a slur like I'm drunk, one arm wrapped around my stomach. With every breath I take, my ribs burn. Despite what the ambo said, I'm not convinced I haven't broken a couple.

"First door on the right down the hall, hon," she directs Emmett and Jas to Bella's room.

They drop me face first on her bed; it smells like her, and I close my eyes for a moment and lose myself in time. I used to have sleep-overs with her and midget in this room. Until her old man figured out I had a hard-on for his daughter, anyway. It's always smelled the same, even when she was a goofy little kid with front teeth so wide you could fit a twenty-cent piece coin between them.

"Seeya, Mate," Emmett choruses, followed quickly by Jas.

I only half grunt out a reply, and turning my head I gaze around Bella's room.

Unlike midget there's no posters of _One-fucking-Direction_, or other wanker boy-bands on her wall. Bella has _Final Fantasy_ on hers. She lusts after spam; gotta love her for that. I don't have to compete with real people.

"Remember when we used to play Kingdom Hearts together, snotface...?" I mumble into her pillow.

"Who do you think introduced me to Cloud...?" she speaks softly against my ear, her fingers running slowly up and down my back. "My mother's going to run you a bath."

"Oh, fuck... I'm not going to smell like you did this arvo, am I?"

She laughs again before I feel her lips press to the back of my neck. "Not quite."

Her mother enters her room a minute later and sits beside me on the bed. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Not bad," I bullshit, closing my eyes again to the feel of fingers wiping my hair off my forehead. I want to believe it's Bella but I'm too much of a pussy to find out. Her mother has a pair of "come fuck me" eyes that scares the crap out me.

"Okay, I want you to take these for me." She places what sounds like a glass on Bella's bedside, and what she's referring to I'm not sure. Knowing her mother, though, I wouldn't be surprised if it's LSD.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Her voice is beginning to sound how her eyes usually look and almost instinctively I reach for Bella; despite my eyes remaining clamped shut.

"Booger, don't leave me alone with her," I plead with her when he mother leaves her room again.

She breaks into a full grin and almost laughs at me. "Why not?"

"I'm not convinced she won't drug me and take advantage of me." I'm serious. _Deadly_, but Bella thinks it's hilarious.

"They're herbal, but believe me, they're _really_ good," she explains, picking up the two tablets her mother left and holding them out to me. "I took them when I had my appendix out last year and I didn't feel a thing."

Awkwardly, and in world of pain I really don't want her to be a part of, I roll myself to my back and attempt to sit up. I fail miserably and I'm forced to let her help me.

"You really should have gone to the ER," she says with a sigh, her forehead knotting up like she might cry again.

"If you promise not to bawl over me again tonight I will tomorrow. Deal?" I bargain, holding out my hand reluctantly to take her mother's drugs.

She places the tablets in my palm and continues to pout. "Fine..." she says begrudgingly like the pain in the neck she is.

I eye them sceptically for a moment. They're green and smell sketchy. "So, who's your old lady's drug dealer? I might know him."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me; she does that a lot. My mother used to, as well; in that tender, motherly kind of way. Not long before she died, Mum told me she wanted me marry Bella when I was older. I think she realised what I felt about her, but she always had a soft spot for snotface. I sometimes thought she loved her more than midget.

"She buys them in the health food shop at the mall," Bella insists.

"Okay, okay," I cave, and wrapping my banged up arm around my ribs I throw back the tablets and down them with the water her mother had left.

I come very close to puking them back up, but I don't. It doesn't stop Bella from shoving the weird plastic spew bag over my face and almost suffocating me, though.

"Bella—Christ," I push it away and drag her to the bed beside me even as I groan loudly with as much fucking misery as frustration. "I'm not going to puke over you again, and no giving me shit over it, either."

She breaks into completely smart arse grin. "Not so funny when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?"

"I got the crap beat out of me tonight—you really gonna torture me more?"

"You gave as much as you got, I suspect." She smiles all warm and toothy. I like the way she smiles at me. It's not shy at all, and her eyes light up with it. "Apparently you broke Mike's nose."

I scoff, even though it almost kills me. "Good, that piece of shit..." I mutter.

"Bath's ready, sweetheart," her mother pokes her head back in the room and announces.

"She's not going to undress me, is she?" I whisper to Bella as she helps me off the bed.

She laughs again; through her nose as if she's attempting to smother it, and kneels down before me to remove my Converse and socks. "You're a dag."

I walk like a cripple down the hall, even as Bella clutches my arm with both of hers, and the moment we're in the bathroom, I reach out and hastily lock the door.

"Christ, what's in it?" I ask, gazing down at the bath water. It's a weird colour and the smell coming off it is stomach churning.

"Epsom salts and oils—I'm really not sure what else." She chuckles and begins to unbutton my shirt while I yank the bandage from my hand.

"You getting in with me?" I arch a brow, and she rolls her eyes again.

"Can you get your mind out of the gutter for one minute?"

"No harm in asking," I reply, as she parts my open shirt.

That's when her hands suddenly freeze and her breath draws sharply. "Edward—_Jesus_..." she utters, shock flooding her voice this time even as it practically fails.

"What?" I mumble as my gaze follows hers. There's a huge purple bruise on the right side of my rib cage, and I suddenly understand why it's been near impossible to take a full breath. "Yeah, they laid into me when I was out..." I explain, placing my palm almost instinctively over it.

"Fucking _arseholes_..." she whispers, her tone flaring with anger, but she's about to lose it again.

"No crying!" I quickly remind her, but she does anyway. "Jesus, Bella..." I complain, pulling her against me.

"I'm sorry..." she sobs, wrapping her arms around me as if I might break. I really don't fucking like it.

"What the hell are you apologising for?" I sigh, dropping my face to her hair.

She shakes her head and attempts to pull herself together, but she doesn't say anything. There's really nothing she can say, though. I should have been anticipating this happening, tonight. I let my guard down. I let her too damn beautiful bloody face distract me.

"Okay, stop slobbering all over me, you dork," I say lightly, inching her back from me.

She half laughs and awkwardly dries her face, and it suddenly occurs to me that she's taken off her dress. I didn't even notice. She's wearing a white singlet and pair of cotton, _Marge Simpson_ boxer shorts. I smirk to myself, bringing it to her attention.

"Shut up."

"You're a drama queen." I clamp her nose only because it annoys her, and it brings the smile fully back to her lips.

"Will you stop doing that?—here." Reaching up, she carefully slides the shirt from my back and down my arms, and I'm grateful she's helping me because I'm not sure I could manage it on my own. "Okay, sit down on the edge," she instructs me, and when I do she turns her back on me and runs the hot water in the sink.

I can smell the fumes of the antiseptic in the steam and I groan only partially beneath my breath. This shit is going to sting.

"All right, no being a baby," she forewarns me after turning back; a bottle of the stuff in one hand and a ball of cotton wool in the other.

"_Easy_..." I beg her, angling my head away from her the closer she comes until I almost fall into the bath.

"Where are you going?" She huffs, placing her hand to my jaw to hold me in place.

Resigned to what's about to happen, I squeeze my eyes shut and tense. She places the cotton to my eyebrow and I practically jump ten feet in the air, crippling myself in the process. "Mother—FUCK!" I burst impulsively. "Ow-ow-_OW_! Bella, shit, fuck—_OUCH_!"

"It's _done_," she says, with a tone that lets me know she thinks I'm pathetic.

"Jesus!" I blurt.

"It's not too deep," she observes, nudging my skin up carefully with her thumb.

"Yeah, the ambo said as much," I reply, grabbing her wrist and moving her hand away from me. "No more of that shit."

"You're a sook!" she fires off at me, but it's not without sympathy. "You've grazed your cheek bone," she points out, attempting to bring the cotton ball to my face again, but I hold her off.

"No!" I put my foot down, and she sighs, completely over-exaggerating it.

"Fine—you're such a baby."

"I'm not going to get gangrene and fucking die, you pain in the neck!"

She shakes her head again, all motherly, and it fucks with me in more ways than one.

"Gonna help me?" I change the subject, tilting my head to my belt.

She immediately arches a cynical-looking brow even as a smile edges on her lips. "Okay..." she murmurs, and after unbuckling my belt and pulling it through the loops of my pants, she unbuttons them.

I shuffle out of them awkwardly, leaning on her for support, and without hesitation she yanks down my underwear. I don't think she looks, and it's probably a good thing she doesn't. Even with a concussion my dick's remaining on high alert; semi-erect and to the left.

She sighs the way she usually does around me—like she thinks I'm a Neanderthal. It makes me think she did catch sight of me, and grinning to myself I let her help me into the bath.

I have to admit, though, the water is hot and really soothing, and I sink beneath it with a low groan vibrating from my chest. "Holy shit..."

"Nice, isn't it?" she acknowledges.

"Hmm." I close my eyes and let my head roll to the side. The bath is huge; a corner spa big enough to fit almost all of me. Big enough to fit the both of us.

Bella sits behind me on the edge, her legs on either side of me in the water, and bending forward she submerges a flannel and wipes it across my forehead. "So... Thursday after dinner..." she begins, and it's not hard to guess where she's going. "Did that have anything to do with tonight?"

"Yeah," I admit with a sigh, reaching behind me and clamping my hands over her knees. "Emmett heard they were planning on jumping me Friday night at Rose's party. He told Jas to let me know."

"Oh, _shit_..." she whispers as if it's some kind of revelation.

"What?"

"Yesterday at the mall, Alice and I ran into Jessica in Target. She asked me if we were going partying, and when I said we weren't she looked really disappointed. I thought she just wanted to crack onto you, or something."

I scoff, and releasing my battered hand, I wrap it across my ribs. "She probably wanted to do that, as well."

She nudges my shoulder. "Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you. Besides, I'm glad we never went—even though Emmett and Jas promised to help me beat the shit out of them. We had more fun last night, didn't we?" I angle my head to glance back at her, and she smiles to herself, her face flushing with it.

"Best night of my life," she admits in a whisper.

"Aw, snotface, I knew you loved me." Grabbing her hand, I bring it to my lips. "Sorry I fucked up tonight for you."

"You didn't," she assures me, squeezing water from the flannel over my head. I watch it, tainted with my blood, run down my chest and into the bath. "So earlier tonight, when you left with Jas and Emmett. Were you making some agreement to fight with Mike Newton?"

"Yeah. His arsehole brother came and got Emmett. It was all a set up. I don't think he ever planned on fighting me on his own. I should have known, but I didn't think they'd pull that shit tonight."

"I wish I went with you..." she mumbles expelling her breath with some kind of regret; as if she could have prevented it.

"What would you have done? Fight them off?" I tease her.

"Alert someone before you ended up like _this_."

"I'm_ fine_, you dork," I promise her. "It was always going to happen. Ever since f_ucking_ _Lauren_ they've been planning on getting back at me."

"What happened to the other three guys?" she asks in a small voice.

"Emmett beat the crap out of Jason—Newton's brother—and he helped Jas finish the other two. That limp dick tried to bolt the second we got outside. Fucking coward." I'm not sure who stopped him—Emmett probably. My recollection cut back in as I was smashing my fist into his face several times over.

"That doesn't surprise me. You scared me, Edward..." Her voice softly breaks again, but she attempts to conceal it from me this time.

"I told you—I'm _alright_," I repeat myself, reaching up and squeezing her bare leg. "You gonna get in with me, or what?" Someone has to lighten the mood; despite the fact that my head's beginning to feel floaty.

"Are you _serious_?" she puts to me like she thinks I'm crazy. "Edward, you have a concussion."

I roll my eyes. "Do I look like I do?" I turn to peer at her over my shoulder. "How are my _pupils_?" I imitate the paramedic from earlier tonight

She scrutinises me closely for a moment and huffs as if she's disappointed. "They're okay..."

"Not dilated?"

"Not anymore, but they were. Your eyes looked completely black."

I turn back and focus on my swollen hand; opening and closing it carefully. The pain's almost completely subsided. "I feel pretty good, actually. Did you old lady slip me acid?" I laugh lightly. I feel more than good; I feel almost high.

"I told you it was good stuff. Jesus, Edward, you have a lump the size of a golf ball on your head..."

"Yeah?" I say, and taking my hand she places it gently over the tender spot a couple of inches above my right ear. The moment my fingers make contact with it, I flinch and suck my breath in sharply. "_Fuck!_—fucking pricks!"

"You can't sleep tonight. You have to stay awake and talk to me." She's serious, and she's getting weepy again.

"This again..." I mutter, before deciding to let it go. I can't fault her for looking out for me even if she is a pain in the neck. "_Alright_, _Bella-Bella-beetle-slug_," I tease her with one of the rhymes I used to say when we were kids. Like most things with me, she pretended she hated them, but she was obvious even back then.

"Eddie-Freddie-spaghetti-and-peas," she reciprocates, breaking into laughter along with me, even as my ribs jerk in pain. We had a ton of them and we spent hours coming up with more inventive ones.

"You remember, snotface, huh?" I turn back to her again and rest my hand on her knee.

"How could I forget?" she replies tugging on my earlobe, and cupping the sides of my face she angles my head back and kisses me briefly. "You drummed them into me," she adds half against my lips.

"Isabella knobby knees, has a face like week-old cheese," I say when she releases me, laughing again like I'm drunk, but my brain's beginning to feel like it's on a time delay.

She shoves me—way too cautiously. "You were _so_ horrible to me, you arsehole."

"Hey, you had some good ones, as well," I remind her.

"Not as crappy as yours."

"I beg to differ. Remember this one?—_Edward is a beanstalk, his hair's as red as blood,_" I imitate eight year old Bella.

"_Bella is a Leprechaun, and her hair looks like mud,"_ she counters, doing a smart arse impression of me, and she pretty much nails it.

I attempt to smother my laugher this time because it's becoming fucking painful. I'm not very successful, though.

Okay, yeah, I was an arsehole to her back then, but she made it too easy for me. Her face used to go beet red and she scowled at me like she wanted to deck me, but usually she bawled and went home in a sulk. I had to suck up to her to coax her back out, but that was never hard to do. I always won her over in the end.

Took me a bit longer this time, though.

"Shithead..." She pulls on my earlobe again, but she can't disguise the affection in her voice. Booger loves me.

"Hmm..." I murmur, closing my eyes. "You don't remember everything, though..." I'm really hoping she will. It'll make shit a lot easier for me, because there are just some things I can't repeat.

"I do remember..." she says, her voice softening, and when I glance at her over my shoulder again, she immediately severs my gaze. It pretty much contradicts her.

"You do?" I'm not convinced. "Tell me."

"The last person you said it to was your mother." She's guessing, and in frustration, I groan only half beneath my breath.

"Bella..." I sigh.

"What?"

"Remember what I said. _Please_?" I all but beg her.

"It was years ago, Edward," she whispers sounding apologetic, but I'm not buying it.

"You remember. I _know_ you do."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and thanks to Kim and Starry8. This chapter is unbeta'd btw. Kim's been super busy lately. **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: back to Bella... Thank you to Kim for her future beta job of this unedited chapter. *blushes* Yes, I jumped ahead to post it again. It's just because I'm late. And impatient. Thanks, as well, to StarryEyedWriter8 and Biebs.  
Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 26**

I keep Edward talking until four am, but by that time we're both struggling to stay awake. It's also when the noise from next door starts to quiet. Alice's party is dying down, and it's probably the best time to get Edward out of the house without my father finding out.

Renee promised to keep him in the dark about Edward's presence in my room, but I'm not about to take any chances. Not with my father.

"Hey," I say softly, gently nudging Edward. He's lying on his back, both arms folded above his head.

"Hmm...?" he mumbles from behind closed eyes and sounding just barely awake.

"You want to go back to your house?"

He squints an eye open, his brow heavily knotted. "Worried about your old man, are you?" he puts to me, his voice coarse and rustic, but my guess is he is too.

"Just a little bit," I admit.

He smiles, it's all adorable and sleepy, and awkwardly he pulls himself upright on my bed. "Okay..." He runs both hands back through his already dishevelled hair and groans; from pain more than to rouse himself, I assume. He's still in a world of it. "C'mon, then."

He's only wearing his underwear, and after carefully pulling him to his feet, I help him back into his black pants. The moment he's upright, though, he winces and hunches over, a hand immediately covering his badly bruised ribcage.

I almost jump out of my skin along with him. I absolutely detest that he's in so much pain.

"You want me to get you some more of my mother's painkillers?" I ask, gripping his arm tightly, worried his legs are about to buckle beneath him.

"Yeah..." he agrees, albeit reluctantly, and after sneaking into my parent's bathroom, I find my mother's stash of herbal remedies, pop two pills from its foil packaging and return to Edward.

He takes them, and just as he did earlier tonight, he immediately turns a horrible pasty colour.

"Are you okay?" I ask, filling with panic as I hastily search my room for the vomit bag the paramedic had given me.

"Fine..." His voice becomes a whisper, and he closes his eyes and practically sways.

"Christ, Edward..."

"You worry too much..." he replies a minute later after his colour begins to return, and opening his eyes he smiles down at me. It's almost charming this time, but then his whole demeanour began to change tonight. He let his guard down; for a little while, at least.

"How would you feel if I had the crap beaten out of me?" I ask in an effort to explain my concern.

He only sighs, releasing what sounds like every ounce of air in his lungs. "Stop being a pain in the neck..." He tells me that more than _snotface_ now.

"When you look like death, I will," I stubbornly reply. "Come on, _spewfest_."

His lips tug into an askew grin and he drapes an arm lazily around my shoulders. "Smart arse," he bends down and murmurs against my ear.

Laughing lightly, and taking his hand, I lead him out of the house toward his.

Alice left the door unlocked, and in semi darkness we navigate our way to his room, sidestepping several unconscious bodies as we do. Edward had locked his bedroom door to prevent any unwelcome trespassers tonight, and pulling his keys from his pocket, he opens it, takes four steps and falls face first against his unmade bed.

"Bella..." he moans.

"Hmm?" I sit beside him and place my palm to his naked back.

"Stay with me," he whimpers.

"Okay, on one condition," I barter, and he groans this time.

"What...?"

"In the morning we go to the doctor's."

"Monday," he counters. "I can't get an MRI on the weekend and I'm not spending eight hours waiting in the ER for one."

I sigh, but he has a point. "Okay, Monday."

"Come here," he mumbles, and grabbing my hand he drags me down against him, even as he pulls out all stops to prevent me from witnessing the amount of pain he's in.

Curling beside him, I reach out and clumsily pull his blanket over us. He sighs, and then again, heavier.

"Bella...?" Rolling to his back he curves an arm around me, and meticulously, I snuggle closer to him, remaining conscious of his battered body.

"Hm...?" I reply, resting my arm across his stomach.

"Thanks for tonight. Looking after me, I mean."

"Isn't that what girlfriend's do?"

"Yeah." I can hear the smile on his lips even in the darkness. "Okay..." He releases his breath again.

"Okay... what?" I ask, turning to face him and leaning my chin against his shoulder.

"I've made a decision. I'm going to stop calling you snotface." He sounds almost sheepish, and for a moment or two I think I'm rendered speechless.

"What...?"

"You're not that girl anymore. At least, I don't see you that way anymore. I-I don't know..." he seems to conclude, sounding suddenly uncertain.

"...What does that mean? How do you see me?"

"Grown up," he replies, chuckling not nearly as under his breath as I think he meant.

I nudge him, but I know he's only teasing me. "Well, one of us has to be."

He laughs softly and half groans through it. "You're a pretty decent smart arse when you want to be."

"I learned from the master," I say ruefully.

"Yeah. I dunno..." he appears to concede behind another sigh. "I didn't honestly think it'd work between us. I'm an arsehole and you're always bitching and getting screechy, but... you surprised me sn—Bella. _Bella_..." he repeats, sounding as if he's speaking it to himself.

"Sure this isn't the concussion speaking?" I tease him, and he huffs.

"How come every time I'm nice to you, you think I'm under the influence of something?" he asks; though, he's not angry.

"Because you're always giving me crap." I give him the same standard answer.

"No I'm not..." he mumbles. "You just don't see it. Now shut up and go to sleep. You've kept me awake all night."

"You're not supposed to sleep while you have a concussion," I point out the obvious.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine."

"You're just all _ego_," I mutter unconvinced, before I reach out and clamp his nose, exactly like he does to me.

"Stop that..." Turning, he plants his heated lips to my temple. "Hey? Do me a favour?"

"Hm?" I turn again and meet his eyes in the shadows of an almost-full moon.

"Don't ask me why. Okay?"

I know what he's referring to without him needing to elaborate, and after gazing at him for a moment, I nod my head. "Okay," I say, my voice dropping softly.

"I... feel the same way you do—that's all you need to know, 'kay?" He obviously feels the need to reassure me.

"I know," I reply squeezing him gently, because I do.

"I always have," he adds, sounding moments from sleep.

"I _know_," I imitate how he often answers, this time.

Air snorts from his nose as if he were going to laugh; instead, he groans again in obvious pain. "Stop talking." He's good natured about it, and so stretching up I kiss his lips briefly.

"Good night."

**.**

We both sleep like the dead until just after eleven am. Edward wakes first, pulling himself awkwardly off the bed, unable to conceal the amount of pain he's still very clearly in. I wake up in an instant, and grab his hand to stop him.

"Edward, I'll get what you need, just stay still for today—okay?" I insist.

He glances at me over his shoulder, his expression becoming almost shrewd. "You gonna hold my dick for me?"

Expelling my breath, I release him and roll my eyes. "Want a coffee?"

He smiles, his expression softening with it. "Yeah. Make me breakfast?" He raises his brows, attempting to charm me.

"Sure," I agree, shaking my head because it's not as if he needs to.

Alice is up when I make my way into the kitchen, and most of the early morning stragglers have left.

"Hey," she says in a hopelessly hoarse voice.

"Hey," I reply.

"How's Edward?"

"He's okay—stiff and sore, but making out there's nothing wrong with him," I answer wryly.

"Of course..."

"Big one last night?" I ask, spooning sugar into the two mugs I pulled from the dishwasher.

"Pretty big. Someone puked on my bathroom floor—ugh..."

"Nice." I grimace as the image of Edward doing exactly that all over my feet passes through my mind. I didn't have the chance to freak out too much, though, because almost immediately he passed out cold, and never before in my life have I ever been so worried about him.

Mr Tough Guy isn't as tough as he wants me to believe, but I've always been aware of that.

"Both Newtons spent the night in Emergency, apparently," she snorts, sipping her coffee and leaning up against the counter beside me.

"Serves them right. What happened to Lauren?" I ask in a small voice.

"Rose slapped her down," Alice replies, smirking from the memory that I'm beginning to regret I didn't witness.

"Thanks, Al," I continue to mumble, feeling moderately ashamed of myself. Alice has fought my battles longer than what was ever necessary. "How's Jas?"

"Sporting a black eye—it's very sexy." She winks, and I break into a grin.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Overall, I think it was a great night," she decides, shrugging a shoulder past anything else.

I can't really say I share her sentiments. If it was just a case of Edward beating up Mike, I could agree, but there's nothing great about a night that ended with him getting a concussion. "Yeah... Did my dad stop by last night?"

"No... Should he have?" Her expression knots in confusion.

"I was sure he'd check up on us—especially with your father away."

"I'm pretty responsible."

"Edward...?" I raise a pointed brow.

"Aside from the fact that he drinks too much on the weekends and he likes his pot, he's pretty responsible, too," she says, and we both share a very knowing grin.

"I think my Dad's just forgotten what it's like to be his age," I muse.

"He was a father at Edward's age, wasn't he?"

"Yes. _God_..." I shudder at the very idea of it. "Got any eggs?"

"Pretty sure." She tilts her head in the direction of the fridge. "What are you guys doing today?"

"Not much. I'm going to head to the chemist soon and get Edward some Neurofen."

"Can you pick up some Beroccas, too? Jas is pretty hungover."

"Sure. It wasn't him who threw up in your bathroom, was it?" I smirk.

"No, he made it to the toilet." She rolls her eyes.

I make Edward scrambled eggs on toast, and when I return to his room with it, I find him sitting up against the headboard of his bed smoking a joint. His eyes are closed and his head's angled toward the ceiling as if he were concentrating or lost in his thoughts.

He groans languidly, his eyes remaining closed as smoke billows from his nostrils. "Smells great, brown eyes."

"Is it so hard to just call me _Bella_?" I say, sitting beside him and plonking the plate of breakfast on his lap.

"Thank you, _Bella_," he imitates me, bring the butt of the joint to my lips.

I shake my head and wave it away. "I'm going to get you some painkillers soon, and I don't want to be driving under the influence."

He sighs as if he's thinking I'm_ a pain in the neck_. "Just swipe your old lady's."

I sigh beneath my breath and sip my coffee while Edward digs into his food. "Your dad won't freak out when he sees you like this, will he?" I ask hesitantly after a while.

He groans for a different reason this time. "Probably—hey?"

"What?"

"What did Lauren do last night?" He's serious, I realise.

I briefly consider bullshitting to him before I answer honestly, "She accused me of fucking around with you when you were together, and then she shoved me over."

His expression darkens almost immediately before it becomes culpable. "Shit..." he mutters.

I shrug. "It's fine."

"It's not. I started it with that post..."

"Yeah, you did."

"Fuck, Bella... I'm an arsehole sometimes."

"No, you're not," I assure him, nudging his shoulder with mine.

He grabs my hand and turns it over, revealing the graze on the heel of my palm. "So that's how you got this... When did it happen?" He sounds resigned.

"When I was washing my feet."

"Fuck..." he echoes, rubbing his brow with suddenly rigid fingers.

"God, and you accuse _me_ of getting _bent out of shape_," I attempt to placate him.

"Alright, so it's the day after the formal. All that shit is finished," he appears to decide resolutely, and I pause uncertain of his meaning.

"...What has...?"

"All that pretending bullshit. It's finished."

"I thought it was finished Wednesday when we went to the beach?" I remind him.

"It was, but this whole thing started with the formal, so it's done. Today's day one."

"All right..." I mumble, my confusion remaining static.

"Jesus, Bella." He's frustrated, but over what I'm not sure.

"_What_?"

"The last two weeks have been cancelled out. All that shit... and fighting with you... It's irrelevant."

"Okay... so what are we now?"

"You're no longer my snotface." He shrugs and draws back deeply on his joint while I stare at him.

"Then... what am I?"

He breaks into a grin and clamps my nose, and it's very clear that I'm amusing him. "You're Bella."

"Edward!" I snap, impatient by how cryptic he's being.

He sighs and half groans with it as if I'm exasperating him this time. "From now on, you're my girlfriend with no fucking clauses attached to it. We're gonna relax and fuck every day. I'm no longer gonna give you shit like I'm still ten, and you're not going to get all needy and screechy. Deal?"

"Okay..." I reply, keeping the scepticism from my voice. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I agree regardless. "But, Edward... we've been over this half a million times already. You can call me snotface."

Curving his elbow around my neck he pulls me to him. "Were you listening, you pain in the neck?—everything we said to each other since I made that Facebook post and up until last night, no longer matters."

I push off him and gauge him closely. "Friday night no longer matters?"

"Okay, maybe except that," he grins devilishly before it inevitably falls. "It's just... I feel like we bullshitted everything up with that whole plan in the beginning."

"Hmm, but it got us to this moment," I point out.

"Yeah, with me getting the shit beat out of me, and Lauren almost doing the same thing to you," he mutters dryly.

"Okay." I release my breath and let it go. I'm still not entirely sure of his meaning, but he's obviously serious, and he very rarely is, so I humour him. "The last two weeks have been wiped out..."

"Good." He sounds satisfied, and turning back to his breakfast he shovels another forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth.

"Apart from Friday night," I amend, and he grins to himself.

"Yeah, apart from Friday night..."

"And the hotel room," I add, as he fights the obvious urge to laugh this time.

"Stop it!"

I chuckle softly, and leaning in I kiss his cheek. "You're a dag sometimes..."

He hums and smiles to himself, and with his other hand, he draws back on the joint again before butting it out in the ashtray on his bedside.

"So, when's the _fucking everyday_ business start?—because I think it'll kill you today," I joke, and quirking a brow he turns and stares at me.

"You fucking with me, booger?"

"Booger? I thought you weren't going to tease me ala ten year old Eddie Spaghetti?"

"Think of it like _babe_—except not as lame."

"I think I'd prefer _babe_."

"Babe is lame."

"_Lame_?" I echo. "Do you mean _cliché_?"

"That too."

"_Babe, honey, Darling_... They're all clichés?"

"Exactly my point. And _darling..._?" He quirks that eyebrow again, sceptically this time. "What are we, eighty?"

"_I _was making a point."

"What the hell are you bitching about now?"

"Oh my god." I hang my head back and let it go, because I have no idea what I'm even saying anymore. "Never mind..."

"Hey, it wouldn't be us if I started calling you _Pooh Bear_ or some other cheesy bullshit, would it?"

He definitely has me there; it wouldn't.

"I guess not," I concede. "But you might as well just keep calling me snotface."

"I told you, I no longer see you as snotface."

"Snotface and booger are synonyms," I say, and he huffs loudly.

"It's day one and you're already driving me mental!" he exclaims, completely feigning frustration. "You gonna keep calling me shithead?"

"If you act like it."

"We're going around in circles again."

"Don't we always?"

He rolls his eyes but the smirk has already taken hold of his expression. "Point taken. We'll start the fucking tomorrow," he changes course.

"Deal. Okay..." I pull myself off his bed to my feet. "You want me to get you anything specific?"

"Maltesers and... chicken Twisties—no. _Pringles_. BBQ."

"I meant something for your head," I clarify.

"I thought you meant _besides _that."

I open my mouth, but instead break into an impulsive grin; it's near impossible to hold off. "Okay..."

"Thanks, booger."

"You're welcome, _babe_."

"See how lame that sounds?"

I expel my breath and give in. "I'm leaving."

"Oi!" he says after I turn my back on him.

"What?" I glance over my shoulder.

"Gonna kiss me first, or what?"

"I'll only be gone for half an hour," I point out.

"Still..." He shrugs a shoulder before motioning to me with his index finger.

Relenting, I turn back, and leaning against his bed, I press my lips gently to his.

"Hey," he mumbles against my ear before I can pull away again.

"Hm?"

"You looked really hot last night."

I break into a small smile and shake my head. "You told me a few times, and so did you."

"I know." He winks.

**.**

By late afternoon Edward's almost back to his usual shithead self—despite the fact that he looks like he tried to stop a meteor with his face. His appetite is back to its gargantuan proportions as well, and knowing I can breathe easy, I decide to head back home.

"You're not going to stay with me again?" He pouts.

"And you call _me_ needy," I tease him over my shoulder, before shuffling to the edge of his bed and slipping my feet into my thongs. "I have to go home eventually. My dad's tolerance will only stretch so far."

"Righto..." he grumbles.

"Poor baby." My pout is feigned.

"Pain in the neck."

"You're more of a _pain in the neck_ than I am."

He smirks, but whatever he's thinking he obviously abandons it. "Come over in the morning."

"I'm still taking you to the doctor's," I remind him.

He half rolls his eyes and pulls himself beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. "I wasn't talking about that..."

It's not hard to guess what he was.

"After we get back—and if you don't have a concussion."

"I don't have a concussion," he says in monotone, and I prod him gently in the side.

"Don't be patronising."

"Well, I _don't_."

"You're still going."

"Fine." He scoffs. "Hey...?"

"What?"

"You're not shy around me anymore."

I glance at him for a moment in confusion. "I've never been shy around you."

"Yeah you were—all that staring at the ground you did." His brows raise in emphasis.

"I wasn't shy. It was just... I mean, we were in that awkward place between friends and... more than friends."

"_More than friends_," he imitates me.

"Shut up," is my paltry reply before I pull myself to my feet and turn back to face him.

Remaining seated on his bed, he grabs my hand, but his eyes are fused to his floorboards. "Alright..." He's sulking.

I sigh pointedly. "If I stay another night, my old man will physically drag me home."

"It's day one—all those nights are now wiped out," he says, a cagey grin tugging on his lips.

I roll my eyes. "I have to go."

He groans pitifully, and pulling me against him he presses his face into my stomach and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Are you kidding me...?" I complain, and I suspect he knows what he's doing, and how I'll react.

"One more night—I'm having a sickie tomorrow," he pleads against me in a mumble.

"Oh my god... _Fine_, but no sex until after the doctors," I lay down my conditions, and angling his head back he flashes me a satisfied grin.

"You've got sex on the brain, booger."

I groan only half beneath my breath. "I'm going—I'll come over after dad leaves for work." And taking his hands I remove them from around me.

"Okay." He's all smiles, and feeling pretty sorry for him, despite everything, I bend down and kiss his lips. "What time?" he asks, eyebrows raised high again, and even with a battered face he's still a good-looking shithead.

"After eight."

**.**

"Edward stayed here last night," my father states matter-of-factly at the dinner table causing me to almost choke on my steak.

"Um, y-yeah..." I stammer, shooting a quick glance at my mother; she only smiles in apology. "But... he was concussed, so it was only until Alice's party died down," I attempt to clarify, cowering subtly from his sharp gaze.

He harrumphs, not looking the least bit convinced. "Bring him around before I leave," he orders, and without another word he returns to his meal.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. He saw Edward's clothes early this morning in the bathroom," my mother explains when I'm reluctantly leaving to get him.

"It's fine," I say with a weary breath, but it's my own fault. I should have known.

The instant my father lays eyes on Edward, they immediately widen while something in his expression falters. He listens carefully as Edward explains what happened at the formal, his forehead furrowing more with each passing word. Whatever Edward tells him, though, he's going to look into it at work, regardless. Edward has to be aware of this, and it's more than likely why he's pretty frank when he describes how he retaliated against Mike.

When he's done my father clears his throat roughly. And awkwardly.

"Care to tell me what happened here?" he asks, his face softening somewhat.

"Um... Mrs Cullen ran me a bath," Edward begins, sliding his palm along the back of his neck, "and then Bella kept me talking 'til pretty early this morning."

"Well..." Charlie clears his throat a second time, "you're welcome to stay over if things at home get hard, but just so you're aware, you'll be sleeping in the spare room." There's an unmistakable warning behind his statement, but a definite compassion as well.

Edward raises his head and stares at him with the same degree of surprise currently over-running my face. "Ah... thanks, Mr Swan."

"Alright." Unfolding his arms, Charlie shoves his hands in his pockets, his stance visibly relaxing. "You look like shit. Go home and get some rest—you seen a doctor?"

"Bella's taking me tomorrow."

"Good."

"So, I just had to get the crap beaten out of me to win him over, huh?" Edward says with a broad grin when I walk him back home.

"He's not a complete ogre underneath it all," I say in a murmur. The fact that my father is looking out for Edward is momentous. At the same time, he's just as worried about what Carlisle might do to him as I am, and that scares me above all else.

"Maybe he just wants to keep a closer eye on me," Edward adds lightly, and ducking his head he captures my gaze that I have locked subconsciously to the tiles of his porch.

"Hmm..." I reply, raising my head and forcing the smile to my lips. "I wouldn't get too confident yet, though."

His smile falters somewhat and he releases what sounds like a very deliberate breath. "What are you getting bent out of shape over now?"

"Nothing," I insist.

"Did I jinx you?"

"...What?"

"I pointed out how you'd stopped looking at the ground, and here you are doing it again."

"No. I was just... thinking..." I mumble, my eyes once again dropping to my feet.

"About...?" Sliding his hand to my jaw he forces my gaze back to his.

"Will you come over?—if-if you have a fight with your dad, I mean," I ask delicately, and I feel like holding my breath. His father is a touchy subject.

"Geez, Bella... I dunno..." he mutters, releasing his hand from me to push it back through his hair.

He doesn't want to talk about it, that much is obvious, so I change the subject. "Okay, I'll be over around eight-thirty."

"Righto." He flicks me square in the forehead, albeit gently, but he hasn't done that in a while.

"Arsehole," I say wryly, and he immediately breaks into that smile of his.

"Don't be late"—he bends down to speak against my ear—"_babe_."

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading :) let me know how you liked. Or didn't. All good.**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: So, they're finally back! I hope you've been enjoying Black Swan, even though it's such a different story from this one. This chapter's just a bit of fun and filler before the story progresses. I gave you a bit of raunch to make up for the mini hiatus ;)  
Thank you, Kim, for rushing this through and to StarryEyedWriter8 for prereading.**

* * *

**Gaytime: **Golden Gaytime is toffee, vanilla and chocolate ice-cream swirl with little biscuit pieces. It is all kind of delish, and anyone who buys it cannot stop at only a few scoops. **  
****Hundreds and Thousands: **What we call those little round sprinkles you stick on ice-cream. We also put them on bread - fairy bread.**  
****Woolies: **Woolworths supermarket.

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 27**

"I'm hungry," Edward states the moment he opens the door to me.

"What? Have you eaten dinner?" I ask. He's had a shower and he smells nice—and no longer of my mother's herbal bath.

"Yeah, but I'm still hungry," he replies, curling his arm around my shoulders and turning me in the direction of the interior entrance to the garage. "Let's go to Woolies and get ice-cream."

"You're not driving!" I insist, grabbing his keys from his hand the moment he presses the keyless entry.

"There's no chance in hell you're driving my car, booger, and how many times do I have to tell you? There's nothing wrong with me," he insists, snatching them back.

"Love your car more than me, do you?" I ask, arching a brow, but I'm not surprised by it; he's such a typical male. Total rev-head.

"Well, _yeah_," he teases, opening the passenger side door for me. Yeah, he's a rev-head, he's crass, he fights too much, and he's a complete caveman, but beneath it all, he's a total gentleman.

"You know there's a song about that?" I say, after he pulls himself behind the steering well.

"Oh, yeah?" He turns to me after slotting the key into the ignition.

"_Okay, so you've got a car_," I sing Shania Twain. "_That don't impress me much – uh, uh, uh-ooh_."

He breaks into an immediate grin and shakes his head to himself. "You're a dork."

"_I can't believe you kiss your car goodnight. Now come on, baby, tell me, you must be joking, right_?" I continue to sing as Edward drives, glancing at me like I'm nuts.

"What the hell are you singing?" he asks me at a red light.

"Shania Twain."

"Ah...Well if you had legs as long as hers, I'd let you drive my car." He reaches over and clamps my nose.

"Nice!" I protest, swatting his hand away.

He chuckles. "Hey, at least it's realistic. What the hell am I supposed to do with pretty-boy _Cloud_?"

"Carry a huge sword and save the world!" I play along, and he smirks.

"Big sword, puny dick."

"_So, you're Brad Pit_!" I ignore him and continue singing, but it's stuck in my head now. "_So you got the looks but have you got the touch..._?"

"You don't have a bad voice, _babe_," he over exaggerates it.

"When you say it like that you might as well not say it at all—_darling_!" I make my point.

"I told you, it's gay."

"_Lame_," I correct him.

"That too—so after twelve it's tomorrow," he changes coarse without missing a beat.

"Huh?" I say vacantly, unable to keep the pace with him. Not that I ever could.

"We fuck every day from _tomorrow_, remember?" He raises both brows suggestively, and I roll my eyes.

"You have sex on the brain," I say dryly.

"I'm at my sexual peak," he offers as some kind of explanation.

"Guys peak at eighteen. You're past it."

"Stop that! Anyway, my old man will be back soon, and there's no way in hell I'm sneaking into your house."

He has a point, and I shudder at the very idea of my father catching me and Edward between the sheets. "If he ever caught us he'd probably force us down the aisle."

"Yeah?" Edward replies, breaking into a broad grin.

I only stare at him for a moment, attempting to ascertain whatever the hell it is he's thinking.

"He likes me so much he wants me as a son in law," he elaborates.

"He likes _me_ so much he'd force you to make an honest woman out of me," I clarify.

"If I knock you up, I will." He shrugs, but his grin gives him away.

"If you knock me up, I'll castrate you. I'm not having babies until I'm _at least_ thirty. And if you say another word, I'll tell my dad you want to watch my mother's birth video."

He laughs for a moment. "Wouldn't she be embarrassed? I might see..._shit_..." he says, appearing to almost shudder himself.

"She wouldn't care. You know how many people she's hamstringed into watching it?"

He turns to me, his brow knotted in disbelief mixed with obvious humour. "Your old lady is off her rocker."

"She's kinda..._unorthodox_." It's the best word I can use to describe her.

"Well, I'm glad you're normal, booger."

I sigh and shake my head to myself. "How is it you can say _booger_ normally, but saying 'babe' almost strangles you?"

"Jesus, will you shut up? Pain in the neck," he changes coarse again, and I swear sometimes it's exhausting just keeping up with him.

**. . .**

"God, Edward, your face...People are gonna stare at you and the security guard will probably throw you out," I say, after we leave the parking lot and head in the direction of the supermarkets.

"Just tell them I won a fight with _Cloud Strife_." He leans down and jokes, grabbing my hand.

"I hate you," I say exasperated, nudging him with my shoulder as he laughs. Or attempts to. His bruised ribs don't make it easy for him.

"That's all bullshit, you know," he pipes up as we're browsing the frozen dessert aisle. The supermarket is virtually empty, but one checkout lady did stare at him; though, it was more out of concern for him than herself.

"What is?—Gaytime?" I suggest.

"Nah, ate a whole tub of it not long ago. Just the thought of it makes me wanna puke—boys peaking when they're eighteen."

I turn to him and arch a dubious eyebrow. "Really?"

"_Yes_," he over emphasises it like a typical smart arse. "I barely lasted thirty seconds when I was eighteen."

I huff. "What part of your brain thinks I want to hear that?"

"Well, I needed to back up my argument, _didn't I_?" He slings his elbow around my neck and pulls me toward him, squeezing me.

"Anything to bring up sex again..." I say ruefully, untangling myself from his arms. "Choc Mint?"

"Hmm..." he deliberates before shrugging noncommittally. "Vanilla and we'll crush Tim Tams into it."

"Hundreds and Thousands," I barter.

"What are you?—three?"

"Arsehole—I like Hundreds and Thousands."

"_Fine_..." he caves.

"You use the same tone when you say 'babe'," I point out dryly.

"Okay, _Hundreds and Thousands_—in my babe voice," he teases me, "but with caramel topping."

"Deal."

"I just can't do babe," he admits, as we're checking out at the self-serve. "We're gonna have to think of something else."

"What on earth happened to your face?" A fellow shopper stops as she passes us and brazenly asks.

"I got into a fight with Cloud Strife," he answers straight-faced, because he is the world's biggest smart arse.

I only sigh beneath my breath, and try not to make it audible.

He carries the grocery bag back to the car, because again, gentleman. "Beetle bug?"

"Huh?" I turn to him, and I swear getting a concussion has made him even harder to wrap my head around.

"In replace of _babe_."

"You're doing that on purpose now," I say cynically.

"Shut up and answer."

"Beetle bug?" I echo, quirking a brow to emphasise how silly I think it is. "It's childish."

"Yeah, but that's what you reckon I am."

"But _I'm not_," I point out. "And I didn't say you were childish," I retort, several beats behind.

"You said I wasn't 'grown up'," he reminds me, leaning his elbow against my shoulder.

I expel another breath, but concede. "_Not_ beetle bug—you'll only change it to beetle _slug_, anyway."

He chuckles lightly to himself, not even bothering to contradict me.

"Just call me what you want. I don't mind," I relent as we're driving home.

He turns to glance at me, his forehead bunched as if he's not convinced. "You sure?"

"Sure."

"What are you gonna call me?" There's something sly in his tone.

"Shithead," I answer, fighting off the urge to grin.

He laughs again. "Well, it's us."

"It is."

"I won't call you snotface anymore, though."

"But you call me booger—that makes sense," I say wryly.

"Booger is 2019," is his justification.

"So, is booger _grown-up snotface_?" I ask, and when he glances at me again, I quirk a brow.

He smiles and almost laughs again—only to swallow past an obvious groan. "Pretty much."

"You okay?" My voice falls with concern.

"I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Shut up."

"_Fine," _I imitate his usual tone_._

"_Fine!_" he decides to further over exaggerate it. "I'll probably still call you babe, though. When I'm drunk," he adds with a wink, a canny smile on full display this time.

**. . .**

"Oh, god, being with you is going to stretch my stomach to gargantuan proportions," I moan to myself after finishing off one very large bowl of vanilla ice-cream topped with caramel sauce and Hundreds and Thousands.

Edward scooped the servings, of course. He had twice as much as me.

"Light-weight," he teases me, and scraping his finger along the side of his bowl he wipes the gooey remnants on my nose. I only sigh and allow him to suck it clean. "Half an hour to go," he reminds me against my ear.

"I said _after_ you get an MRI," I refresh his memory, shoving him lightly back.

"Fuck," he complains, gauging me closely for a moment. "You're not really going to make me get one done, are you?"

"Of course I am!" I'm adamant.

"I'll make you a deal—" he begins with a sly smile, when I immediately interject.

"No, we already _had_ a deal."

"Come on, baby, look at me?" He juts out his bottom lip pathetically, but it's his words that suddenly hamstring me, not his face.

"What did you just call me?"

He opens his mouth to reply when he stalls. "Fuck...that was lame." Running his hand over his brow, he flashes me a sheepish smile.

"It was _sweet_," I insist.

"I'm not calling you that all the time," he warns me, and I laugh.

"I don't want you to. Just say it on impulse like you did just now."

"Alright," he relents, his voice dropping to almost a murmur, but judging by his shrewd expression, he's plotting. "I will, but make me happy, Bell, please?"

"Bell?" I raise a brow, bringing it to his attention.

"Bell is grown-up beetle slug," he says, laughing through his nose.

"God, you're a dork." I shove him again, playfully.

"You love me, right?" he grabs my hand.

"You think that's always going to work?" I put to him.

"Well, if it doesn't, I'm fucked," he mutters, and groaning lazily he lays himself back against his bed.

I observe him for a moment before releasing an exasperated breath. He's so battered it's near impossible to believe he could be in the mood for anything other than sleep. "Is it still sore?" I ask, flattening my palm gently over the hideous purple bruise on the right side of his rib cage.

"Hmm...yeah..." he mutters from behind closed eyes, and removes my hand, "but c'mon, Bell, you're tight, and hot, and Jesus fucking Christ, it makes me horny just thinking about it." He moans as if to reiterate it.

"Stop it!" I blurt, but I'm unable to prevent my grin from following his.

He chuckles, and it's husky, not from lack of sleep—which is exactly why I'm attempting to resist him.

"Bell...?" I echo, ignoring anything else for the mean time. "Where did this come from?"

"I'm not an arsehole," he opens an eye and squints up at me, an all-too-charming smile tugging on his lips. "I've been thinking of things to call you that weren't completely lame. I like _just_ Bell." He shrugs a shoulder.

"Hmm..." I mumble in thought, running my fingers through his hair. "It'll hurt you," I say.

"No, it won't," he assures me, his voice softening, because he knows I'm worried about him. "Wanna try on top?"

"On top?" I echo. "I was a virgin two days ago."

"_Yeah_?" he says in monotone in some kind of emphasis. "Hey?"

"What?" I ask suspiciously. He's going with another angle; it's obvious.

"I'll make you come again..." He cocks a suggestive brow, and I have to admit, I do pause to consider it.

"Alice and Jas are asleep a room away." I return to logic, and point out the obvious.

"They're hungover and won't hear a thing," is his argument.

I can only sigh and shake my head. "Jas is hungover. _Alice_ isn't."

"Alice won't give a shit."

"She's your sister—of course she will."

"Bella..." Grabbing his pillow, he shoves it over his face and feigns a completely over-the-top sob.

"Call me _baby_ and I'll think about it," I bend down and promise in his ear.

He immediately yanks his pillow from his face and turns to me, his eyes already dark. "Fuck me hard, baby!"

"Oh my god!" I completely give up, and laughing he curls his arms around me and pulls me flush to him.

Relenting, I go fluid against him. He immediately winces, but groaning to himself in frustration, he rolls me beneath him. "Don't say it," he warns, leaning over me on his knees before bending down to plant his lips to mine. "Admit it, Bell, I look pretty hot like this, right?"

"No, you just look banged up," I insist stubbornly, even as I allow him to slowly relax the weight of his body over mine.

"I'm not going to do anything," he whispers, kissing my face, my neck, my shoulders, and back along my throat to my lips. "If you want him, you have to pull him out."

"Him...?" I repeat dubiously, curling my legs around him as he settles between my thighs. I'm continuing to fight the sensation he's slowly drawing from me, even in the state he's currently in. "As in Mr Doobee? _That's_ lame, Edward," I tease him.

"Call him what you want." His voice is becoming low, gravelly, his lips hot and firm against my exposed flesh, and I realise I have ten seconds until he wins me over.

He doesn't attempt to undress himself, or me, for that matter. Just as he promised, he's using only the power of his mouth, and his good-bloody-looks to sway me—even as beaten and bruised as he currently is. And I'm in a freefall beside him, allowing him to take me down, and with each breath I take, each second that passes, I'm yielding and the shithead knows it.

"Edward...after...the...MRI..." I somehow manage to get out against his lips. "I...promise..."

He groans to himself and pulls back to meet my gaze. "You're really that worried about me?" He smiles, and there's something soft and vulnerable about it.

"Of course I am," I insist, confused that he can't understand it. "I just... I can't get turned on when you look so terrible."

He pauses and gauges me for a moment, and taking advantage of the situation, I pull myself out from beneath him. He takes a breath and releases it heavily. "Alright, you pain in the neck," he relents. "But you have to stay over tomorrow night, as well," he counters, his eyebrows pulling high, the grin creeping back to his lips.

I sigh, but his smile is infectious. "Okay. What time's your dad coming home Tuesday?"

He shrugs a disinterested shoulder. "Sometime in the arvo, but I have to work."

"What if the doctor tomorrow gives you time off?" I put to him.

"Then I won't get paid—I _need_ the money," he stresses, pulling himself carefully upright beside me.

"Your health is more important," I remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

"I've got a few bruises. Geez, I'll survive—"

"A concussion is _not_ a bruise," I interrupt him. He always has to make light of everything with him, and I'm not sure if it upsets me more than it frustrates me.

"It was mild." He shrugs again offhandedly. "I was fine today, _wasn't I_?"

I huff, and jerk his arm from me when he attempts to pull me to him. "You were knocked unconscious by those bastards, so no sex until you get checked out." I'm serious.

He groans again, dropping his head to push the heel of his palm into his eyes. "Killing me, boog."

"Boog, now?" I question, and he smirks.

"I like boog."

I let my head hang back for a moment. "Okay, I can live with that."

He takes a breath and releases it into a long-winded hum. "Good. Wanna get high?"

"No," I answer, side-eyeing him sceptically.

"What?" He arches a confused brow, before his eyes spark with realisation. "You think I'm going to date rape you again?" It's not a question.

"Did I say that? Stop putting words into my mouth," I nudge him with my shoulder.

"You still think I'm an arsehole," he mutters unconvinced.

"I do not," I assert, rolling my eyes, before elaborating. "I just don't trust myself," I admit.

He smirks again and doesn't making a single effort to conceal it. "Well, I am pretty irresistible." I huff sharply, and open my mouth to reply, when he quickly adds, "We'll just fool around—promise."

"Okay," I agree in a mumble, leaning forward and planting my lips briefly to his cheek. "What do you want to do?"

"What can I do?" he asks shrewdly this time.

"_Anything_. You're my boyfriend, aren't you?" I deadpan, fighting the urge to smile despite myself.

"Lie back and I'll make you scream my name," he whispers against my ear, and turning to him I hastily clamp my palm over his mouth.

"Alice and Jas," I explain when he quirks a brow.

"You know how many times they've fucked in her room while I was in here pretending I couldn't hear?" he admits after moving my hand free.

"Edwa—"

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck," he interrupts me, and pulling his long frame from his bed, he inserts his phone into his speaker dock and switches on iTunes. Music blasts out, effectively drowning us out in the event we get _loud_. "_Happy_?"

"Is it me you want, or sex?" I ask all too-knowingly.

He pauses and eyes me for a moment before deliberately flashing_ that_ smile of his. "Both, baby—_both_." He winks.

I scoff, immediately unconvinced. "Are you trying to charm your way around this?"

He groans again, and curling his arm around me he tugs me back with him against his mattress. "Will you shut up—we're just messing around, right?"

"Alright..." I sigh, remaining doubtful. How can I not? And pulling me further to him, he leans closer only to pause with his nose a fraction from mine. "What?" I muse.

"Kiss me."

I do.

We don't have sex—I'm able to resist that much, at least—but we do _mess around_. By mess around, I mean Edward makes good on his promise. I do scream his name. At least, I come _very close_ to screaming it. He takes me so high with him, for one horrifying moment I'm sure the energy multiplying and erupting from me will cause some kind of brain haemorrhage. He makes me climb, and climb, and _climb_ before I reach that peak, and when I do my mouth falls open, I gasp and explode into tremors as my voice tumbles from my lips, hoarse and failing.

When I plummet back down, I'm actually seeing stars. In fact, I'm almost positive the blood vessels in the whites of my eyes have broken, while all words—all coherent thought—are stolen from me in the moment as I stare flabbergasted at him.

Like the first time, he laughs uncontrollably, needing to shield his ribs from it as he does. "Jesus, you're funny, boog," he teases me, reaching over to clamp my nose before he kisses my lips tenderly.

I'm not going to lie, I like _boog_, I like _Bell_, and I definitely like _baby_. I don't tell him that though, but I'm sure he already knows. The shithead knows me more than I've ever given him credit.

Getting hold of myself, I only shake my head to myself. He's a lot more experienced than he ever let on. Unless I was just naïve, but then, I think that's a given.

It takes me a lot longer to recover than I first thought, but as my body bounces back, I all but pounce on him, suddenly feeling untamed and riding up that high again.

Of course, I fully intend to return the favour, but I have absolutely no idea what the hell I'm doing. With my hand is one thing, but with my mouth? I have never had _that_ conversation with Alice before, and I avoided it from my mother at all cost to save my sanity. Once, not very long ago, the very idea of it repulsed me, but that's because the only alternative I had was to experiment on _Mike_.

On Edward is another matter entirely.

He helps me as much as he can. He calls me boog, Bell, baby, and even babe, as I completely mess it up. I cause him a lot more pain than I do pleasure. I bite him, almost gag, and bite him again until I'm sure he's either going to turn cross-eyed or pull a muscle.

And then, slowly, I get the hang of it, but Edward's still in pain, and not from me in all my unmitigated inexperience. His battered body doesn't deal well with the exertion it takes. He struggles to breathe deep enough to allow the energy to consume him, and ends up spasming from it as he attempts to hide it from me.

"_Edward_!" I panic and immediately release him, my brow heavily knotted with concern for him.

"I'm fine," he croaks out, one hand wrapped rigidly across his mid-section and the other sliding down to wrap around himself. "Don't stop, Bell, please."

"I told you I'd hurt you." I'm horrified by the fact.

"You're not hurting me—I'm already hurt!" he insists, his voice restricted as he continues, unsuccessfully, to downplay it.

"But—"

"If you leave me like this, I'll get blue balls," he heads off my next objection.

I only eye him sceptically; his are burning and overly animated.

Noticing my hesitation he groans loudly, sounding more in pain than he does frustrated. "You're gonna kill me."

"I'm hurting you," I reiterate. "I'm stopping."

"Bella, _please_!" he pleads with me, pretty pitifully, and with a conceding sigh, I continue.

He immediately turns tense and rigid beneath me again, his body flashing hot as one of his hands grips around my hair.

I wasn't expecting the sensation of it, or metallic taste in my mouth. I'm finding I'm not as averse to it as I expected. I take careful note of Edward's physical and audible cues, and soon realise the mechanics of it; what makes him tick.

He doesn't last much longer. He starts to twitch more frequently, and practically turns to stone as he attempts to muffle his reaction behind his clenched jaw. Then, without warning, he clamps his fist around my hair and jerks me off him.

It startles me at first, until I soon realise why. He came, and I knew if it hit the back of my throat when I wasn't expecting it, it wouldn't be good.

He comes down, gasping in pain as much as he does release, and practically sobbing as his lungs heave forcefully. But he's mellow and suddenly unable to wipe the smile from his face, and I can only join him.

"I sucked, didn't I?" I say sheepishly.

He fights to hold back the laugh I know will practically kill him. "Pun intended?" His eyebrow cocks, and I shove him gently.

"Stop it—I was terrible."

Taking a breath he releases it with a long and languid moan. "Okay, you're a..._novice_"—he flashes me a quick, teasing grin—"but you sure are shocking the hell out me, boog."

I seem to do that a lot.

His t-shirt is unsalvageable, and helping to pull it over his head, I relax myself against his bare chest and expel every molecule of air from my lungs. It's been an eventful few days, and we're both coasting through it on adrenalin. Though, I'm not even minimally tired, and by all accounts, either is Edward.

We talk for hours; it's something we're always going to be phenomenally good at. Edward winds me up, because he's even better at that, and we argue and banter, and kiss, and kiss even more, well into the early morning.

Edward falls asleep before I do, snoring softly against the nape of my neck as he spoons me to him. It takes me awhile longer. I spend the final hour trying to remember the trauma behind why he can't say I love you, but I can't. It's completely lost on me, in my memories. Memories of Edward and Alice that have long since began to blur together.

Edward's confident that it'll eventually come to me, and keeping faith that he knows me a lot more than I ever realised, I turn and curl myself against his chest. He tightens his arms further around me, and softly murmurs _snotface_ in his sleep.

Snotface; it's something that lies at the heart of both of us, even if he really does stop calling me it. I'm not sure he can, though, and I'm okay with that.

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading. **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: These two are just not talking to me lately. Anyway, this chapter hasn't been edited or pre-read, so it's me in all my unmitigated imperfection.  
Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 28**

Edward's MRI scan and x-ray come back clear. No hematomas, no swelling, and no brain trauma. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, and one minimal hairline fracture on his fourth rib, he's completely fine.

He got lucky, considering he was hit from behind and lost consciousness; it could have been so much worse. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

"Three hours sitting in a doctor's office only to be told what I've been trying to tell you all along," he says wryly, draping one arm around my shoulders and clamping my nose with the other.

"It's called _peace of mind_," I point out, brushing it away.

"Let's get lunch—I'm starving," he adds as we make his way back to his car. He insisted on driving again, as if he'd get separation anxiety if we took mine.

"You have two personalities, hungry and horny," I say ruefully, rolling my eyes.

"You have three," he responds, bending slightly to speak teasingly against my ear. "Bitching and bitching, and my personal favourite, _bitching_."

"I do not _bitch_!" I retort, coming minutely close to shoving my elbow in his side before I catch myself.

"Sure thing, boog. Hungry Jacks?" he puts to me.

"No—ugh. I have no idea how you can exist solely on grease and sugar," I say.

He sighs in exasperation. "Well, what do _you_ feel like, _Cinderella_?"

"I'm not really hungry," I answer, becoming distracted. My thoughts are still brimming with his father's imminent return. Edward's nowhere close to healing after Saturday night, and I can barely stand the thought of anything else happening to him.

"KFC?" He prods, regardless.

"Yeah." I shrug a non-committal shoulder.

He sighs again with impatience this time. "Okay, what are you bitching about this time?"

"I'm not _bitching_," I insist.

"So, what's going on in that head of yours?" He flicks my forehead in emphasis.

"_Nothing_." I over exaggerate it. "I'm just..._tired_," I add not sounding the least bit convincing.

"Righto," he mutters dubiously, half rolling his eyes. It's not exactly easy to get anything past him, but then I'm starting to suspect he knows me more than my own mother.

"Macca's?" he suggests after pulling himself behind the wheel of his car and yanking the gear stick into reverse.

"We had Macca's the other day," I point out dryly.

"Subway?"

I hesitate; something he takes as conformation. "We're not getting takeout for dinner," I insist. "I'll cook something."

"Yeah?" he turns to me, a broad smile spreading warmly across his face.

"_Yeah_," I tease him in imitation. "What do you feel like?"

"Hmm... Spag?"

"Sure," I say simply. "We'll need to stop and buy groceries, though."

"No worries. You're not a bad cook, boog," he notes, his smile turning to a grin, but what over I decide I don't want to know.

"I learned early on. Cooking is too much of a commitment for my mother," I reply, smirking.

"Your old lady..." he murmurs to himself. "I'm glad you take after your old man."

"So am I," I say emphatically.

"You're going to stay over tonight, still, right?" he changes course without missing a beat.

"I said I was, didn't I?"

"You're old man won't mind?" He turns and cocks a single brow.

"What do you think?" I reply, my expression mirroring his.

"I think he likes me." He breaks into another grin and mine quickly follows.

"He likes you a lot more than he did. How many times has he busted up a party that you were at?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"Hmm, a few..." he answers, his grin turning inward.

"Hellraiser," I prod him with too much affection.

"You're already mellowing me, boog. I'd rather spend my weekends fucking you than getting pissed," he says a little too candidly while I almost choke.

"Can you _not_ say it like that?" I voice my objections

"Like what?" he tilts his head, but his smirk is giving him away. He's messing with me again.

"_Fucking me_—it sounds cheap."

"Oh, I'm sorry—_making love_ with my girlfriend, _boog_," he mocks me, breaking into laughter when I scowl at him.

"You're hilarious," I mumble begrudgingly, but I'm not angry at him and he knows it.

Because Edward and I are nothing if not creatures of habit, we once again stop at the mall, and after eating lunch, we head back to Woolies. Naturally, we run into a few people from school who all stare at the two of us curiously, but thankfully, Mike and Jessica aren't among them. Edward might be pretty laid back in general, but he can snap in a heartbeat when it comes to my ex-boyfriend.

After grabbing the ingredients for dinner, as well as more ice-cream, Edward hurries me along.

"I have to get home and mow the grass or there'll be hell to pay," he mutters in explanation.

I turn to stare at him aghast. "You're in no shape to be mowing the lawn!"

"Who else is going to do it?" he asks, draping an arm around my shoulders as we head back to the parking lot.

"I can ask my dad—" I begin when he cuts me off.

"No!"

"Why?"

"You know my old man," is all he offers.

"You're hurt!"

"I'm fine," he immediately counters, rolling his eyes as though I were over reacting.

"I'll ask dad to loan you our ride-on," I continue regardless.

"Bella..." he complains, expelling a heavy breath. "Stop being a pain in the neck."

"I'm just worried about you," I confess with an audible sigh.

"Over a mild concussion?" he challenges me. "I've had real concussions before. The last one I slept forty-eight hours straight," he openly admits as my breath sucks in on complete impulse.

"You're not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion, you idiot!" I burst, horrified.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" he says matter-of-factly, clamping my nose again, and this time I push his hand away impatiently.

"You have to stop being so reckless. I can't live worrying about you all the time." I stop and turn to him, and I'm serious. Deadly.

He looks down and raises both eyebrows, flashing me an all-knowing smile. "Aww, boog. You're cute when you get all motherly on me."

"I'm serious, you idiot!" I snap hotly.

"Will you relax?" he says, not taking me remotely serious, and grabbing my hand, he pulls me after him.

**. . .**

"Can you give me a hint?" I breach, after we're heading home again.

"Hint...?" He turns to me, his forehead knotting.

"You said you told me about it," I elaborate in a small voice, and I watch as realisation burns behind his eyes.

He clears his throat stiffly and turns his gaze back to the road. "I didn't really tell you about it. You were there," he clarifies cryptically, his voice notably tense.

"Does Alice remember?"

He shakes his head, his frown deepening. "If she does she never mentions it."

"Why can't you tell me?" I appeal to him, because it would make things so much easier if he did.

"Bella..." He expels a heavy breath. "I told you not to ask me about it." Releasing a hand from the steering wheel, he rubs at his brow with the heel of his palm.

"I know, but...I feel terrible that I can't remember," I disclose quietly.

"I don't want you to feel terrible," he says lowly without turning back to me, and he's immediately..._off_. This is still such a sensitive topic for him, after all.

"I'm sorry."

He huffs this time, sounding irritated. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?"

"I know."

"You'll remember it," he assures me after a pause, making an obvious effort to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," I humour him, but I'm not so sure. I don't recall a lot after Mrs Cullen died; I'm positive it was something my young mind deliberately blocked out. I barely remember attending the funeral, and the first twelve months after are hazy and full of holes.

Often times certain things jog my memory and it comes crashing back to me, and I'm hoping that will happen this time. All I really remember about Edward after his mother's death was hearing him sobbing in the tree house alone, and the thought of it tears my heart out.

"You don't have to say it, Edward. I know how you feel," I say gently, despite the fact that my voice is still overrunning with guilt.

Flashing me an almost tender smile, he reaches over and clamps my nose again; his trademark act of affection. "Shut up," is all he says in reply, but he can't disguise the warmth in his tone, and it's enough.

**. . .**

"I'm helping!" I insist stubbornly, following Edward into the garage even as he ignores me.

"You can help by not being a pain in the neck. I'll finish it a lot quicker if I don't have to fix shit that you'll mess up!" He turns to me and props his hands on his hips as I glare at him indignantly. "You ever done this before?" he calls my bluff, and he has me there.

"No..." I confess.

"Then how would you be helping me?" He arches that brow again and I huff.

"Jesus, Edward!" I burst, because he has a point, _and _because his ego's the size of China!

"Go hang with Alice," he says with a weary sigh; it's an emotion he doesn't often portray and I immediately pause.

"Fine," I concede. "Want me to get you a drink?"

He breaks into an askew grin and flicks me square in the forehead. "Yeah."

Relenting, I make my way back inside and head toward Alice's room. Without hesitation, I open her door and am confronted with the sight of her and Jas having sex. I almost jump out of my skin and immediately exit, beyond mortified.

"Sorry, Al," I offer sheepishly from behind the door again, fighting off the full-bodied convulsion, and without waiting for her answer I head home.

"Where are you going?" Edward asks over the thunder of the mower's engine as he pushes it along the front lawn. He's shirtless like he always is, and I honestly can't fault my mother for perving on him. I just shudder to think how long she's been doing it.

I point to my house in answer.

He nods and winks, and removing his baseball cap, he replaces it on backwards before continuing. He's still conscious of the bruise along his ribs, but pointing it out will only frustrate him, so I pretend I don't notice and attempt, unsuccessfully, to push it from my thoughts.

I'm always going to worry about the shithead, though. Whether I want to or not.

"Hello, sweetie," my mother greets me as I come through the door. "I feel like I hardly ever see you anymore." Planting both palms to my face she kisses my cheek. "How's Edward feeling?"

"He's okay. Being stubborn, as usual," I reply. "I'm just going to have a shower."

"No worries—how's everything _south of the border_?" she asks after me casually, as though she were enquiring about school.

"Fine," I reply, attempting to keep the cringe from compromising my voice as I hurry my step toward my room. Alice and my mother in the space of five minutes is too much for anyone's psyche.

"You okay, sweetie? Do you have your period?"

"No!" I insist. I don't want _that _happening just yet, after all.

By the time I wash my hair, brush my teeth, and pull on fresh clothes, Edward's moved onto the backyard. My mother has her binoculars out of course, and is discreetly watching from the safety of the back covered patio.

"Mum!" I protest! Perving on him when he wasn't my boyfriend was bad enough, but now that he is...? That's when I realise; in tandem with the roar of the mower is the sound of the line-trimmer. And the person operating it is who my mother is actually perving on.

My father.

In silence, he works alongside Edward, and I immediately pause suddenly feeling close to tears. It moves me more than I ever thought possible to see him reach out to Edward in such a way.

Even Jas is helping, raking up the debris of weeds and severed blades of grass the line-trimmer leaves behind.

"See, sweetie?" Renee moves beside me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me. "I told you your father would come around."

I nod, feeling the imminent sting of tears behind my eyes and preparing to wipe them dry the moment they escape. My mother will completely misconstrue my emotions as some kind of post lost-virginity come down.

"Mum?" I speak up, my voice hopelessly wavering.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Can you get Dad to invite Edward to stay tomorrow night?—he won't ask on his own," I hastily explain.

"Of course I can," she assures me, her voice softening. "Leave it to me."

"Thanks," I whisper, and I don't need to tell her why I'm so anxious for him.

"No problem." She squeezes me again. "Would you like a B12?"

It's my mother's answer for everything. I have no idea whether they work as she presumes. She's been giving them to me for so long, I'm positive I've developed some kind of immunity.

"Yeah," I appease her nonetheless, nodding my head and echoing her smile.

My mother prepares the drinks, delivering them in person with a deliberate sway of her hips. It's all for my father's benefit thank god, and going by the smile on his face, he knows he's going to be richly rewarded tonight. It's a good thing I'm staying with Edward again.

"You all done?" I ask him softly as he gulps down the lemonade. His hands are shaking, he looks exhausted, and it's obvious he's stiff and in pain.

"All done," he replies, flashing me a quick grin.

"Do you have some Epsom salts, sweetie?" my mother asks him, drawing his attention.

"Ah, I don't know." Edward scratches the back of his head, suddenly looking awkward, and I have to force myself not to laugh. No doubt he expects my mother to give him a sponge bath, or something to that effect.

"I'll send Bella over with a box. You should have a bath," she explains as my father pointedly clears his throat. "_Alone_ obviously, honey."

"Erm...thanks," Edward mumbles, his face flashing hotter than it already is before he turns to Charlie. "Thanks for your help, Mr Swan." He extends a hand and my father takes it easily.

"No worries, mate." And grabbing Jake as he runs past, my father hoists him onto his shoulders and returns to the house.

"I'll send Bella over in a moment," my mother adds, grabbing my hand.

"Mum—what?" I ask, as she drags me back inside with her.

"You're not coming home tonight, are you?" she asks covertly in my ear before leaning back and winking suggestively.

"No," I reply, unsure whether I want to cringe from her innuendo or scoff.

"Good. The Epsom Salt's in the main bathroom."

**. . .**

"You gonna have a bath with me?" Edward asks with a cagey grin when he opens the front door to me and I hand him the small blue box of magnesium sulphate.

"There's no bath in your bathroom," I remind him.

"And...?" he asks with confusion, wrapping his arm around my back and leading me inside. He's sweaty and smells of dirt and freshly cut grass; I had no idea how appealing it is.

"_And_ there's only one in Alice's. I don't want her walking in on us, as well," I elaborate.

"As well?" he echoes, arching a questioning brow.

"I was reminded of why you should always knock first," I say ruefully as Edward's expression morphs into one of repulsion mixed with amusement.

"Fuck that," he mumbles, chuckling through his nose regardless.

"Nice, Bella!" Alice declares, emerging from her room right on cue; she's not angry, though.

"Sorry, Al," I repeat my apology.

"Ever heard of a lock, midget?" Edward adds, planting his palm to her forehead and shoving her out of the way.

"You two went out!" she justifies, shoving him back. "God, you're a child—what's with all the food? Gonna cook are you?" she mocks him.

"Boog is," he answers.

"Oh, then I forgive you, Bells," she says, grabbing my hand with a broad grin. "Make some for me and Jas, too?"

"Of course," I agree, my smile following hers before it quickly fades. "I really am sorry, Al. I should have knocked." And it's not exactly an image I'll be able to erase from my mind any time soon.

"It's fine." She waves her hand dismissively. "So, our last night of freedom. What are we gonna do?" She directs her question to Edward who shrugs a disinterested shoulder.

"You can do your own shit."

She scoffs, and turns to head back to her room. "You two will get sick of the sight of each other."

Edward only snorts, and taking my hand he pulls me down the hall to his bedroom. With a loud groan, he shoves open his door and drops lazily to his bed.

"I won't get sick of you, boog," he promises, rolling to his back and flashing me a smile with deliberate undertones of affection.

"Hmm..." I reply, taking his hand when he offers it.

He pulls me down beside him, and curving my hand around his bare shoulder, I rest my head against it.

"Hey," he murmurs, after turning and resting his nose and lips to my forehead for a moment.

"What?"

"You really grew up a lot these last couple of weeks."

I tilt my head and gaze at him. Normally he'd say something like that in his usual smart arse, mocking tone, but he's serious, I realise.

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.

"You no longer treat me like I have Swine Flu." And finding amusement in his own joke he laughs softly through his nose.

"Shut up." I nudge him, my lips twitching in response to him. "I _told_ you. I just...lost sight of you for a while." My tone softens as I contemplate it further. I still can't grasp how he went from my best friend, to the annoying boy next door whose sole purpose in life was to torment me.

**. . .**

I force Edward to take a bath, bribing him with all kinds of sexual exploits to get him to comply, while I start on dinner. Alice helps, and I take the opportunity to attempt to crack her for information.

"Edward says I was there, but I don't remember anything," I relay in a whisper because he has the hearing of a bat.

She hums, her brow knotted and her head angled in thought. "I don't know, Bells. I don't remember a lot from back then," she says in apology.

"Either do I," I mutter with an edge of frustration, as I grind up beef mince with spaghetti sauce over the stove, "but it's obviously important to him."

"It's cause...that's when Dad started getting hard on him," Alice adds, sounding increasingly troubled.

I release a reluctant breath and turn to face her. "Al, your dad won't hurt him, will he?—when he comes home tomorrow?"

She sighs in a way that all but confirms it, and I feel like holding my breath. "It's hard to say," she eventually answers. "Any little thing sets him off, and if Edward retaliates, he gets...physical." Her voice drops to a whisper and she frowns.

"What do you mean _retaliate_? Edward says he doesn't fight back."

Alice cocks a brow, her expression almost ironic. "But you know what he's like. He'll roll his eyes at him, or scoff, and dad just..._snaps_."

"Does he see anyone? Your dad? A psychologist, or something?" I venture.

She shakes her head, before reaching up to rub her brow, looking increasingly unsettled. It's not exactly reassuring. "I don't know," she admits. "Bella, if you could talk to Edward and convince him not to provoke him..."

"Al..." I reply regrettably, "there are some things he refuses to talk to me about, and your dad is one of them."

"Edward is...Edward," she says sounding frustrated, as though they weren't the words she wanted to use. "He and dad have always been pretty rocky, but..." Shaking her head she abandons it. "Sorry, Bells..."

"It's alright," I mumble, as my thoughts continue to stray. I never realised Edward's relationship with his father had broken down. Not until years later. I was so disconnected from him, and I can still barely wrap my head around it. He was so important to me, and then...I just let him go.

"The moment Edward gets home tomorrow, get him out of the house, okay?" she suddenly asserts, and I'm immediately nodding my head when she expands on it. "Because the second Dad sees him he's going to freak."

"I will," I vow as my heart jolts; reminding me again that my concerns are completely justified.

"Just keep him out of the house as much as possible. Dad gets so pissed off when Edward gets into fights." She sighs heavily, and shakes her head to herself a second time. "He's too old for it now, though. He really needs to grow the hell up."

I nod my head dully even as my thoughts remain plagued. As at ease and in control as Edward likes to portray himself as, I'm really beginning to suspect he's in a world of pain and he's just barely hanging on.

"That's where you come in." Alice breaks into my thoughts, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Huh?" I utter blankly, turning to face her.

"You're the only one who keeps him grounded," she says with an encouraging smile.

**. . .**

I knew Edward wasn't physically ready to do anything so strenuous. Even with Dad helping, it wiped him completely out, and by the time we finish dinner he's so exhausted he's practically swaying in the dining chair.

"Wanna have an early one?" I put to him softly, grabbing his hand beneath the table.

He turns to me and smiles gratefully, his eyes burning a little too brightly; it only reiterates how tired he really is. "Alright." His voice is rustic and it catches softly.

I have to practically pull him up out of his seat, and when he curls his arm around my neck, I realise it's to lean his weight against me.

"Can you guys keep it down?" I ask Alice as we pass, my worried tone explanation enough; she smiles and nods her head in reassurance.

"Your turn to do the lights, midget," Edward reminds her, but there's no conviction, or smart arse undertone in his voice, and even Alice pauses and gazes at him with obvious concern.

"I won't forget," she answers.

"Bell..." Edward murmurs after crawling to the centre of his unmade bed and collapsing against his pillows, "it's tomorrow and we didn't have sex."

"I know," I say gently, lying beside him and reaching up to wipe his hair off his forehead. "It won't kill us."

He groans languidly, closing his eyes against it. "We got time for a quickie?"

"You might fall asleep on top of me," I joke lightly, leaning closer to plant my lips to the side of his neck.

He takes a breath and releases it into a long-winded hum. "That's a definite...possibility... Shit."

"We've got plenty of time," I promise him. "Go to sleep."

He groans again, but he sounds mere moments from unconsciousness. "In the morning?"

"Sure," I agree, frowning as I consider it. Two hours of exercise today did _this _to him, so I hate to think how he'll manage a full day at work.

"Stop it," he mumbles.

"Stop what?"

"You, over-thinking shit all the bloody time." He takes another humming breath, and moans huskily with it this time.

I almost laugh, needing to smother it behind my nose at the last minute. "How the hell do you know me so well?"

"I've always known you _so well_." He smiles behind his closed eyes and I can only marvel at him. Even half asleep he's still capable of mocking me.

"You're a shithead," I tease him in turn, my voice hopelessly overdrawn with affection.

"Hmm..." His voice becomes deeper, even as the sleepy smile remains static on his face. "Kiss me."

I do, stretching up to plant my lips tenderly, but briefly, over his.

He moans again. "Morning," he reminds me, in a voice that's barely a whisper, just as I'm positive he's fallen asleep.

"Morning," I echo wryly.

"Don't...forget..."

"I _promise_," I swear.

"Good. Shut up. Pain...in...the neck..." He's asleep not a second after he gets that sentence out.

I wait several more minutes until he's softly snoring beside me before I pull myself carefully out from under him to turn out the lights. That's when I notice it. As I move to shut down his computer, I immediately pause; realising what's missing. The busty blonde who normally fronts his screensaver is gone.

He replaced it with a photo of me.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I suck at these things, so happy reading and thanks to the same people I thank every week. They know who they are. And to all those who read/review/fave/add to alerts etc. I appreciate it.**

**Btw, this isn't edited. **

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 29**

Edward wakes before I do, clumsily moving around in the darkness of his room until I'm pulled from my dreamless sleep along with him.

I sit up groggily and feel around for my phone; switching it on when I find it. It's just past 4am.

Edward hits the lights and I'm immediately blinded by the glare. "Morning, sunshine," he says, his voice adorably husky and throaty, and I squint up in time to see a sleepy grin pull lazily across his face.

I return it before stretching my arms above my head and yawning. "God, it's still dark outside..."

"Lights on or off?" he puts to me.

"Huh?" I turn back to him and ask blankly, just as his meaning becomes clear. "Oh..." I break into a knowing smile. "I don't mind."

"On then." He waggles his eyebrows and takes a step toward me when I immediately jump up from his bed.

"Just let me brush my teeth," I insist, horrified by the thought of my breath, and making a beeline for his bathroom, I grab his hand and drag him after me.

"Fuck, I'm horny." He groans from behind a mouthful of toothpaste.

I only roll my eyes and continue scrubbing, but it's not as if it isn't glaringly obvious, or anything. His boxers are strained, and I'm fairly certain he was poking into me all night.

"How many time has it been?" he asks, after rinsing his mouth out with water and spitting it out in the sink.

I hold up three fingers before following suit.

"That's all?" he sounds surprised; though, why I have no idea.

"That's all," I say, drying my face with the hand towel he left hanging over the vanity.

"I'm fixing that shit, right now," he practically growls before bending down and throwing me over his shoulder.

"Edward!" I burst clinging to the back of his shirt, but my concern for him quickly fades. He barely flinched.

Carrying me back into his room, he drops me to his bed and leans over me on his hands and knees. "When are you gonna try on top, boog?" he says with a cheeky grin.

"When it's been more than three times," I say wryly, tugging his shirt over his head. "Don't forget, this time," I remind him of what happened during our last early morning romp before he merges his mouth with mine and any further objections are lost.

"I won't," he mumbles against my lips, his voice quickly becoming rustic, and making similar work with the clothes I slept in, he relaxes his weight over me.

I'm not sure whether it's due to the early hour, but Edward goes for a lot longer than the previous three times. It makes me almost glad that I got somewhat of a reprieve in between. He was careful the first time, but with each subsequent round he loosened more with me, and this time, I'm positive he's moving deeper than I've ever experienced.

It's reminding me again that I'm still a novice, and that my body hasn't fully adjusted to him just yet. Still, it's no longer painful, and that surprises me.

By the time we're both coming down, he's out of breath and sweaty, and while I don't mind his sultry-hot body slipping against mine, he's still clearly in pain.

It's thick behind his exhausted, completely-too-satisfied moan as he rolls to his back and pulls me with him.

"Take it easy today, okay?" I say, draping my arm across his chest, but my concern and exasperation for him only comes across as jaded in my still-breathless state.

"Yes, boog," he humours me, forcing his laughter beneath his breath when I elbow him.

"I'm serious!"

"You're getting screechy again," he opens his eyes and brings it to my attention, but he's only messing with me. He's too mellow for anything else, right now.

I take a breath, releasing it with a groan that's overrun with the usual rush of emotion he brings out in me. "I'm not screechy," I say with a sigh, closing my eyes. He clamps my nose, and I smile to myself despite him. "Are you ever _not _going to do that?"

He answers with a soft chuckle and flicks my brow instead. "Hey?"

"Hmm?" I reply, squinting back up at him.

"Let's aim for ten by the weekend." He winks, and I break into an immediate grin.

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

"I believe you—on one condition," I amend, propping my elbows against his chest to fully meet his gaze.

"What?" he asks suspiciously, even as the remnants of his grin refuses to fade.

"Stay at my house tonight."

He scoffs, immediately dismissing me. "Your old man won't allow that."

"Ask him."

He glances at me for a moment, his brow knotting cynically. "Yeah, that's not going to happen—he catches me with you and he'll shoot my dick off."

I laugh lightly and nudge him. "He offered, didn't he?"

"It was a pity invite. I'd just had the shit beaten out of me," he answers, running his fingers over his forehead and into his hair. "Getting pretty attached to me, though, aren't you, boog?" he decides to tease me, and I immediately snort.

"Who made me sleep over here every night since Thursday?" I raise my brows to stress my point.

"You wanted to." He moves to clamp my nose again when I intercept him.

"What are we gonna do tonight?" I ask softly, attempting to keep my thoughts away from any _what ifs_.

What if I can't get him out of the house before his father catches up with him.

"What do you want to do?" he puts back to me, his voice dropping gently as he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear.

"I don't mind."

"We'll figure out something when I get home," he says, and taking a momentous breath he releases it into a long-winded groan and closes his eyes.

"Still tired," I mumble, and it's not a question.

"Hmm..." he murmurs, tightening his arms around me. "Stop talking."

I do.

We both fall back to sleep, and when I wake a second time I'm alone in his bed with the sound of running water echoing along the walls. Edward's in the shower, I quickly realise, and pulling myself up, I hastily throw my clothes back on and head into the kitchen to make coffee.

He follows me a few minutes later still dripping wet, and with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

"You can make me breakfast too if you want," he hints with a deliberately charming smile after I slide a mug in front of him across the counter.

I poke him teasingly in the stomach. "I thought about it, but you have nothing in your pantry except Coco Pops."

"Don't touch them," he says, curving his elbow around my neck and pulling my face flush against his damp chest. "I eat them when I get home from work."

"No kidding," I say dryly, pushing off him. No matter how nice he smells, I don't trust that I won't rip the towel off him. "How is your skin so clear?" I pinch his cheek.

"Good genes," he replies, jerking my hand away. "That hurts, boog."

"Let's go to the beach again," I suggest.

He hums, not sounding altogether sold on the idea. "Nah..."

"I'll let you do more than feel me up..." I tempt him, being intentionally coy.

He glances at me and arches a very pointed brow. "That's a given now, Rapunzel."

He moves to clamp my nose again, but I pre-empt him and tilt my head out of reach. "Movies?"

He expels a long, exasperated breath. "Let me think about it."

"All right" I mumble, fighting to keep my tone casual.

"Don't you want to hang with midget?" He gauges me for a moment and I'm positive he's catching on, but then I'd be an idiot to think he's still in the dark.

"Yeah," I agree, shrugging a lukewarm shoulder. My priority isn't Alice, right now, though.

"Go shopping with her or some shit, so you don't feel the need to drag my arse to the mall Thursday night," he adds ruefully.

I nudge him again and he jolts and almost chokes on his coffee. "For the record, I _hate_ shopping."

He rolls his eyes, and dropping his empty mug back to the counter he hooks his elbow around my neck again. "Maybe I just want to stay home and fuck you again," he admits against my ear.

"Of course you do," I reply, shoving against him.

He chuckles and releases me, tugging on a strand of my chaotic bed hair.

"Your dad's home today, isn't he?" I ask curling my hair over my shoulder, my feigned indifference beginning to sound a little too forced.

He jerks an offhanded shoulder. "Yeah, sometime around six probably."

"Will he get angry? About this?" I point to his bruised ribs apprehensively, but the waver to my voice gives me completely away.

He sighs in deliberate emphasis, and grabs my hand. "Bella..." He's serious.

"What?" I ask, severing my eyes from his and staring down at the tiled floor.

"Stop that," he warns me, and while there's an edge of frustration behind his voice, there's also tenderness. "Jesus, what are you looking at now?"

I glance back up at him and flash him a culpable smile. "I'm just—"

"Worried about me?" he cuts me off, his eyebrows raised high even as a smile ghosts on his lips.

"Yeah..."

"You don't need to be. I'm not going to piss the old bastard off for a while, so stop getting bent out of shape." He sounds too cavalier about it, but whereas I suck at pretences, he's a master at it. Especially when it comes to his father.

"You deliberately piss him off?" I ask, not even minimally convinced.

"Yeah." He scoffs to himself as though he's amused by it. "Just to shit-stir him."

"_Why_?" It's a genuine question, and one I want to understand.

He jerks a shoulder again, and glances away from me. "It's better than him fucking ignoring me," he mutters, his expression completely clouding, but it's a moment that's quickly lost in time, before he shrugs it off and forces that cagey grin back to his expression. "We'll go for a drive tonight and fog up the windows."

I huff with as much frustration for him as concern, but inevitably let it go. "Okay..." I concede, expelling a weary breath. He's completely exhausting.

"Jesus, you're a pain in the neck." He points to my chest, and when I glance down he flicks my nose. "Kiss me," he says, muffling his laughter through his nose at my reaction.

With a small, barely audible sigh, I stretch on my toes and plant my lips to his. He grabs a handful, of course, and for the next several minutes what may or may not happen with his father tonight gets pushed from my mind, as he completely manhandles me. But I'm honestly at a loss with him.

Sometimes, I'm positive he's hiding everything with his father behind this apathetic front he's so good at, and other times I'm convinced he's genuinely not that bothered by it.

And then there's times when I start believing he's just become accustomed to it being his everyday life.

I'm not sure which one's worse.

**. . .**

Edward leaves for work just after seven, and my main objective for the next several hours is to clean his house from top to bottom. I start with his bedroom first, clearing clothes and rubbish from the floor before changing his sheets, dusting, and vacuuming. It's hard to believe only a few days ago he'd cleaned it himself. He's a definite magnet for mess.

After throwing a load of his dirty laundry in the washing machine, I move onto the living areas. This is when I alert Alice.

"Jesus, Bella, it's eight-thirty!" she exclaims, stumbling out of her room still clearly half asleep and using her bare foot to power off the vacuum cleaner. "What the hell are you doing?" Her question's rhetorical, but I answer anyway.

"I don't want to give your father any reason to start on him."

She shakes her head slowly, but there's a definition understanding, and pity, behind her eyes. "Just wait another hour and I'll help you."

"It's fine," I insist. "I've been staying here since Thursday..." I don't elaborate, and before I can't switch the vacuum back on Alice pulls the plug from the socket.

"Bella!"

"What?" I snap, feeling a little too on edge.

"If they're going to get into it, _this_ won't make a difference," she explains, her voice dropping gently because she knows how overwrought I'm feeling over it.

"I know!" I reply frustrated, dragging my hand stiffly back through my hair. "But...I have to do something." My voice catches softly in the back of my throat, and clearing it roughly, I break her gaze.

She sighs softly, and moving to stand beside me she wraps her arm around my shoulders. "Bella, Edward's not a complete idiot. He's not going to pick a fight with Dad the instant he gets home."

"...What do you mean _pick a fight_?" I ask suddenly curious. I've been under the impression that Edward's run-ins with his father have been completely unprovoked.

Alice shrugs slowly as her thoughts obviously wander. "Usually Dad'll get pissed off at the mess Edward leaves everywhere. He'll tell him to pick it up, and Edward will say something smart arsy back, and just stand there willing Dad to hit him." She scoffs, and shakes her head to herself as frustration mars her expression.

I immediately hesitate, and gaze at her for a moment. "Wait—so your dad hits him because Edward's disrespectful?"

She half nods, and chews on the inside of her cheeks. "Pretty much."

"And he doesn't just to decide to confront Edward and hit him without warning?" I continue to question.

Alice meets my eyes, her brow knotting as though she's confused. "No, but Edward knows exactly what to say to rile him up. I'm always telling him to stop but—"

"Still—he shouldn't be hitting him," I interrupt. "One day Edward will snap and hit him back."

She nods again, slowly this time. "I know..."

I pause, biting on my thumb nail as I contemplate it further. "So, they clash..."

Alice laughs without a shred of humour. "Understatement of the century."

I glance up and meet her eyes, before continuing, "And Edward, knowing how your father will retaliate, will usually say something to make him snap?"

She half shakes her head in contradiction. "Yeah, I mean, sometimes Dad'll start on him for no reason at all. I know it upsets him, and...I don't blame him for being such a smart mouth back." She expels her breath as though it pained her to admit it.

"But...he laughed about it this morning—as though it's funny!" I exclaim, my frustration peaking, before I immediately begin to feel disheartened. "I...I just don't know where he's coming from sometimes..."

Alice shrugs again, this time appearing irritated. "You know what Edward's like," she mutters.

"What are you saying?—that he deliberately provokes your father into hitting him?" I express how ridiculous it is. "_Why_? Why would he do that?"

"Because that's what he does, Bella," she replies, sounding suddenly impatient. "He gets in your face to deliberately force a reaction. Look what he did to you the last few weeks?"

I open my mouth to reply, when I freeze; realisation is descending on me. "Because he won't admit it first." I sigh and drop my forehead to my palm, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"In a nutshell."

"Christ..." I didn't realise how complicated Edward really is, but then, I didn't realise a lot of things.

"After Mum died," her voice immediately softens, "Edward and Dad's relationship fell apart. I know Edward's upset about it, but instead of doing something proactive, he'll arc back up at him the instant Dad's gets the shits with him."

"Jesus, he told me why..." I murmur as the conversation I had with him this morning replays through my mind.

"Told you...?" Alice prompts me to continue.

"He said your dad hitting him is better than ignoring him."

She laughs again, sarcastically, but her voice comes minutely close to breaking this time. "God..."

"How did they get so..._unhealthy_?" I ask.

Her focus sharpens to me, her blue eyes practically blazing. "Because they're both stubborn, short-tempered idiots! Neither one of them will be adult enough to—forget it!" she cuts herself short with a huff. "I'm going back to sleep," she mutters, and turning on her heel she disappears around the hall to her bedroom.

I watch her go, distracted as my mind continues on the same tangent, and that's when it hits me.

Edward craves attention from his father, and it doesn't matter in what form.

**. . .**

I continue cleaning, leaving the rest of the vacuuming until Alice wakes a second time. She helps me as she promised, but there's no words between us. My thoughts are too overrun, and Alice, knowing she can't offer anything to put me as ease, remains silent.

At midday we're done, and Alice drags me with her to do grocery shopping. It's no use though; I'm too distracted. I can't get Edward from my thoughts, or lessen the growing anxiety I'm feeling for him. My father's still on night shift for the rest of the month, so I'm hoping I can persuade him to spend the night—even if he will have to occupy the spare bedroom.

He arrives home just before five. The sound of his truck pulling up in the driveway it's unmistakeable, and the instant I hear the diesel engine, I race out the door to greet him.

After parking his car in the garage, he makes his way toward me. He's bare-chested, his work shirt draped over his sweaty shoulder, and despite the smile that tugs lazily across his face he looks completely shattered.

"How'd you go?" I ask, rising on my toes to meet his kiss.

"Okay," he mumbles, expelling a weary-sounding breath and running his hand back through his short, wayward hair. "Go wait for me in the tree house. I'll be there in a sec," he directs me, gently clamping my nose, before turning and heading toward the front door.

I watch him go; his shoulders are sagging, his head's bowed, and my heart absolutely breaks for him.

He's only five minutes behind me when he pulls himself into the tree house and sits beside me, and as I was secretly hoping, he pulls two rolled joints from his pocket along with a lighter.

He's more likely to talk while he's mellow, and cannabis definitely has that effect on him.

He hands me one, and after lighting it for me, I inhale and immediately start choking. He only smirks to himself and lights his own; relaxing his arm heavily around my shoulders and leaning back against the timber of the makeshift wall.

"Holy shit..." he utters with a long languid groan, closing his eyes against it as smoke billows from his nostrils.

He's still bare-chested and he smells both woody and musky simultaneously. It's more appealing than I ever would have previously admitted.

"Tired?" I ask rhetorically, after somewhat getting the hang of managing the joint in my hand.

"Fucked." With his eyes remaining closed, his head lulls to the side against my shoulder. "Bell..." His voice is deep and gravelly, but he barely sounds coherent.

"Hmm?" I snuggle against him and curve my hand around his thigh.

"Shhh," he murmurs, bringing the joint to his lips a second time and drawing it deep within his lungs. "Bell...?" There's a definite question behind it this time.

"Yeah?" I ask softly.

"Stay for dinner?" He turns his head and rests his lips to my bare shoulder, his eyes still closed.

"Okay," I agree. "Alice cooking?"

"She usually does when the old man's home." He squints up at me and flashes me a warm smile. His eyes are burning again; the colour of clovers.

I return it, albeit cautiously and bide my time. He's not mellow enough just yet. I need to give him a few more minutes. "Hmm, okay..."

"Good." Sounding satisfied, he closes his eyes again and takes another long drag of his joint. "This week's going to hammer me."

"Just take it easy," I mumble, turning my head to rest my lips to his brow; his skin's hot. "You got sunburnt."

"Hmm, yeah. We were doing a new frame today," he explains behind a momentous breath. "All fifty fucking squares of it."

"How's your ribs?" I ask, running my palm over the fading bruise.

He jolts and covers his hand over mine as he breaks into an impulsive grin. "That tickles, boog—not too bad."

"That's good."

"Hmm..." He moans again and clumsily raises his head to kiss my temple. "Your old man on night shift?"

I smile knowingly to myself. "Yes..."

"I might sneak over later." He raises his head further and when I catch his gaze he winks.

I briefly pause; he might have just given me an opening. "You can stay over. You just have to move to the spare room before he gets home."

"Yeah..." He sounds dubious. "I don't want to push him just yet."

I sigh. "He_ offered_, you dork."

"Just face it," he drops his face to my neck and floods me with his heated breath, "you can't get enough of me."

I chuckle lightly. "I admit it."

"Took you long enough," he adds, his voice muted against my skin before he plants his lips along my throat, and then again, practically groaning with it. "Bell...?"

"Hmm?"

He's silent, and for a moment I'm worried he's fallen asleep, when he raises his head and locks his eyes with mine. "I'm sorry..."

"What for?" I ask, tilting my head in confusion.

"For fucking up your formal."

I release my breath gently, and smile at him with too much affection; I can't help it. "You didn't," I assure him.

"I feel pretty shitty over it," he admits, bringing his joint to his lips and drawing back again.

"It wasn't your fault."

He doesn't answer; instead he expels the smoke from his lungs with a deep-sounding hum.

"I'm on baby-sitting duty again this Friday," I bring to his attention.

"Yeah?" He raises is head and meets my eyes with a definite interest igniting behind his.

"Yeah. Wanna come over and help?"

"So long as you don't get all weepy on me like you did the last time," he teases me, reaching out to clamp my nose again.

"You're an arsehole," I say, brushing his hand away, but I'm not angry and he knows it. "You wanted to kiss me all the time, and I had no idea what the hell was going on," I attempt to explain myself.

A grin pulls wide across his face, and he muffles his obvious laughter through his nose. "You were just in denial."

"So were you." I nudge him teasingly with my shoulder.

"I've never been in denial," he insists with a quick grin, and drawing back what's left of his joint, he bends forward to butt it out with his steel-capped work boot.

I only scoff and prod him again, with my elbow this time.

He chuckles lightly, and turns to fully face me. "Kiss me."

"Kiss _me_," I tease him back in imitation.

He does. It's warm, gentle and almost long before he expels a frustrated-sounding groan and pulls back. "I'm so fucking hammered right now, I'm not in the mood for anything," he mutters, resting his lips briefly against my brow.

"It won't kill you. Edward...?" I breach, practically holding my breath.

"Yeah?" He props his knees up, leans further back against the wall and releases an exhausted breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" he replies, cocking a brow, with more than a suspicious edge to his tone.

"Why do you fight with your dad all the time?" I ask before I can talk myself out of it, and almost shying away from him in the process.

He groans pointedly, and leaning his head back he closes his eyes. "Bella..." he complains.

"Just explain it to me so I understand," I appeal to him.

He huffs, and releasing his arm from around me he presses the heel of his palm against his eyes. "God, you're a pain in the neck... I don't know," he mutters. "He's always on my back for the dumbest shit—leaving crumbs on the counter, or not putting a fucking fork in the dishwasher. Meanwhile, his little princess, Alice, can do no wrong. It pisses me off." His tone darkens, and leaning forward again, he rests his forearms against his knees and frowns.

"What makes him hit you?" I continue to push him despite my better judgement.

He jerks an irritated shoulder. "If he thinks I'm being a little shit, I guess."

"Are you?"

He turns to me as an ironic grin pulls on his lips. "What do you think?"

"So...he doesn't just confront you and hit you?—I mean without you being _a little shit_?"

He scoffs as though he thought it was ridiculous. "Is that what you think?" he puts to me, and I nod sheepishly. "If he started that shit I'd lay the bastard out flat."

"Then...do you want him to hit you?" I ask, knowing at any moment he could snap.

He shrugs again, but doesn't answer.

"Edward," I say softly. "I know it hurts you when he does."

"Bella..." His voice drops lowly, but I continue regardless.

"And if it hurts you, it hurts me."

He turns to me abruptly, his mouth open as though he were going to lose it with me, but he doesn't. Instead, he huffs again with obvious frustration and drags his fingers back through his hair. "Our family's just...dysfunctional, Bell. It's just the way it is. You can't fix it."

"Edward...?"

"Bella...just stop..." He sighs and drops his head.

"Just answer me one more thing," I plead with him.

"What?" he says, sounding suddenly resigned; his gaze fixed beyond him.

"Do you allow him to hit you to feel something?" I venture, and he laughs humourlessly.

"No. I want him to feel like shit for being a poor fucking excuse for a father, but he doesn't. He doesn't give a shit!" he replies, his voice sharp and overrunning with bitterness.

"Have you tried talking to him?"

He laughs again, dryly this time. "That stuffy old bastard? That will never happen." Then turning to fully face me, he covers his palm over my mouth. "No more questions."

I nod silently, and he releases his hand. "Just promise me something," I whisper.

He groans again loudly and with emphasis. "Bella!"

"Just... Edward—promise me you won't provoke him—_please_!" I plead with him desperately. I'm deadly seriously; something he immediately picks up on, because he pauses and gauges me closely for a moment before expelling a conceding breath.

"All right, you pain in the neck. I promise."

* * *

**A/N: love ya's. **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Love yas, and sorry these chapters have been slow coming.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 30**

By the time Carlisle arrives home, Edward and I have made it to _five_; the fifth taking place inside the treehouse where we once spent hot summer's nights as kids.

Along with the two joints, he conveniently brought a condom with him—no matter how exhausted he very clearly was. Sure, he takes being horny to the next level, but I like that he wants me. Actually, I _more_ than like it, and well, I pretty much can't resists him these days, either. The shithead knows it, too.

To think, only three weeks ago I would have been repulsed by the prospect of sex with him. I'm clearly an idiot.

He got me on top, as well, but it was all the limited space would allow for. I was terrible, uncoordinated...I'll be cringing to death for months over it, but it made Edward laugh, so I guess it wasn't a complete failure.

He has a great laugh...

Of course, then we saw a flash of silver, and heard the automotive sound of the garage door opening and we both plummet back down to earth.

"Come on...'Spose I'll have to greet the old bastard," he mutters, extending a hand to me, and climbing down the crude timber stairs first, he helps me to the ground beside him.

I grip his arm with both hands; I'm a lot more concerned than he appears to be. I really shouldn't be, though. He gave me his word, and Edward's pretty trustworthy. He's always done exactly what he's promised.

Always, and I'm betting everything between us on it.

"Will you relax, drama queen," he teases me, half shaking his head even as a smile tugs on his lips.

I nudge him, but he's so at ease it's hard not to be infected by it. I just hope I'm reading him right.

We enter the house through the back glass siding doors into the family room, and I trail behind him down the hall, past Alice in the kitchen, to his father's room. The door's slightly ajar, and standing along the wall, Edward shoves it further open.

Carlisle's standing just inside, at the foot of his bed, pulling a tie from beneath his collar, and at the sound of Edward's unannounced presence, his focus is immediately drawn to him.

"Hey, Dad?" Edward calls, folding both arms over his chest, his eyes on his work boots.

"Edward," his father replies, sounding as though it's a formality. He walks to the door, opening it fully, and for a moment he only gazes at Edward closely, his brow heavily furrowing, before he turns his sharp blue eyes to me. He flashes me a warm smile, and I return it, marvelling at how much Edward looks like him. Edward has his mother's eyes and shade of hair, but everything else is Carlisle.

"Mind if Bella stays for dinner?" Edward asks, his eyes remaining locked to the timber floor, and from his posture, it's obvious it's from a stance of defiance.

I assume his father's also aware of this, because he doesn't reply; not until Edward reluctantly raises his head and meets his gaze head on.

"That's fine," Carlisle says, his frown deepening the longer his eyes remain on his son. "What happened to you?"

"Bella's ex-boyfriend and his brother jumped me," Edward answers, snorting discreetly to himself and smirking.

"What did you do?" his father asks, immediately sceptical.

"_Nothing_," Edward retorts a little too sarcastically, and that's when I realise. The promise he made me? He's not going to keep it. His issues with his father run too deep.

Carlisle's expression immediately darkens, and he shoves both hands into the pant pockets of his suit and glares at him.

"_What_?" Edward directly challenges him, and very subtly I nudge him.

"Looks like you gave as much as you received," his father notes, his head tilting toward Edward's still scabbed-up knuckles that he has half tucked stiffly beneath his arms.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to take that shit lying down," is Edward's response, and I very nearly hang my head back and sigh in frustration.

"When are you going to realise you're too old for such behaviour?" Carlisle puts to him, eyebrow cocked high.

Edward opens his mouth to respond with something no doubt smart-arsy, but as he catches my exasperated gaze something flickers in his and he immediately closes it. "I didn't start it," he starts over in a mumble, his eyes once again falling to the floor. "I had no idea the bastards were going to pull that shit."

His father noticed the exchange between us, and for several seconds he only glances between us in silence. "When did this happen?" he eventually asks, and as Edward once again raises his head, his father very pointedly glances in my direction.

"Recently," is all Edward offers, with an offhanded shrug of his shoulder.

Carlisle sighs and rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers, and it doesn't fill me with encouragement. If I had to guess, he's not exactly in support of us. "I'll be out soon," he concludes, closing the door on us both.

Edward's expression clouds, and, huffing shortly, he does an about face and leaves the way he came, with me struggling to keep up with him.

"What the hell was that?" I ask after following him to his bedroom and slamming the door behind us. I'm frustrated with him, but almost by instinct, my voice remains responsive.

"What was what?" he mutters, turning his back on me and propping his hands on his hips.

"If I spoke to my father in that tone, he'd probably knock me on my arse, as well!"

In an instant, he whips around to face me, and his eyes are practically on fire. "The difference is, _Bella_, your old man gives a shit about you. Mine doesn't!" he snaps; his jaw's set and he all but glowers at me.

"Do you ever talk to him?" I ask in appeal, feeling a little taken back by his sudden anger.

I think I've just seriously pissed him off.

"Talk to him..." he echoes bitterly, reaching up to drag his rigid fingers through his hair. "He doesn't want to talk to me."

"How do you know?" I push, straightening my back in mirror to him. He promised me not to provoke his father and he didn't last three seconds.

"Twenty fucking years of living with him—that's how I know!" His voice raises before he snorts caustically. "Go home, little kid. What do you know?!"

"_Little kid_?" I repeat in disbelief. "Who threw a tantrum the _instant _his father came home?"

"You don't know—" he begins when I immediately interject.

"You promised me!"

"Did he hit me, you pain in the fucking neck?!" he demands, his arms tense across his naked chest again.

"He might have if I wasn't there!" I point out and he snorts again.

"He saw what happened to me. He's not that much of a prick!" And releasing an arm, he plants a palm to my forehead and shoves me backward. "Go home."

I immediately shove it away. "So, this is what I get for giving a shit about you?"

"Who says I need you to give a shit about me?" he counters, raising both brows like the typical smart arse he is so good at being.

"Fine—then I _won't_! _Fuck you, arsehole_!" I burst, turning on my heel to leave when he grabs my elbow.

"Bell, look..." he sighs, his voice softening with open regret, before he drops his head and rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I just don't want you...getting involved..."

I'm not easily swayed.

"You want to fight with your father, Edward, then fight with him. I'll stay out of it from now on." Shrugging him from me, I grab the door handle, but again, he prevents me from leaving; grabbing me around the waist this time. And in the next instant, he turns me around to face him.

"Jesus, calm your fucking tits for a second," he mumbles. "I'm sorry..." His breath gushes from him, his head hanging lower.

"You know, calling me a _little kid_ every time you get the shits with me is crappy!" I state begrudgingly, because I'm wavering before him and he knows it.

"Yeah..." he concedes. "I'm an arsehole. I admit it."

"Then don't _be_ one," I relent, my voice softening even as I plant my hands against his chest to prevent him from pulling me to him.

"It's just...too much time has passed..."

"It's never too late," I say in contradiction, my voice falling to little more than a whisper.

"Bell..." he complains, dragging me to him, he rests his lips to the crown of my head. "I don't want to fight with you because of him."

I yield and go almost completely fluid against him. "Don't make me worry about you," I murmur against his skin.

"You don't need to worry about me," he replies, his tone becoming light already, because no matter his emotions, he always bounces back a little too quickly. I'm beginning to think it's his way of burying everything.

"Of course, I do." I sigh and tighten my arms around his waist.

He groans loudly, teasingly, and pulling slightly back he presses a clumsy kiss to my forehead against my hairline. Then taking my hand, he sits on the side of his bed, tugging me after him. For the longest moment, he doesn't speak a word; he only drops his forehead and rubs it heavily with the heel of his palm looking increasingly frustrated.

"You really think your dad doesn't give a shit about you?" I ask tentatively after grabbing his hand to stop any further assaults on himself.

He appears to contemplate it for a moment and then shrugs. "I'm sure he does in his own fucked up way. He's just...unplugged, Bell," his voice softens and he frowns past it, expelling his breath.

"Unplugged...?"

He shrugs again, jerkier this time. "When Mum died, he just...checked out, and he never could stand the sight of me." He scoffs to himself as though out of some kind of irony.

"You're his only son..."

"Only son or not..." He doesn't elaborate.

"I think you're just too alike," I say, more or less to myself, and he scoffs again; only there's something almost raw behind it.

"Yeah, Mum used to say that a lot."

"Do you _want_ to talk to him?" I breach again after a few seconds of silence.

"He won't listen," he mutters.

"Maybe you should both get drunk," I suggest lightly, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, probably." Turning to face me, he slings an arm around my neck, clamping my nose with his other hand. "See, this is why I like having you around, boog."

"Why?" I ask wryly, edging him back a fraction.

"You know my history. I don't have to explain shit to you."

"Is that the only reason?" I ask, arching a brow.

"Well, you're pretty goofy, but you're..._tight_."He's back in shithead mode.

I shove him in protest and he laughs_. "_Someone to have regular sex with who you don't have to explain stuff to—is that all I am?" I say cynically, and he rolls his eyes.

"Pretty much, _Miss Needy_." I open my mouth to argue, when, in one motion, he pulls me back against his bed with him and rolls his weight over me. I'm instantly flooded by the scent of him; the salty smell of sweat, and the trace scent of his aftershave intermingled with sawdust. "We really need to work on you being on top," he says, chuckling beneath his breath and through his nose.

"Maybe tomorrow," I say ruefully, deciding to take him in good humour, and pressing my face against the crook of his neck, I take a deeper whiff. The shithead smells as good as he looks.

"Yeah...gonna have a shower," he relents, and while I should tell him I like the way he smells, I don't. His head's already the size of China as it is.

**. . .**

"You got that checked out?" Carlisle asks, pointing his fork over his plate to Edward's grazed face.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he replies in a mumble, shoving mashed potatoes in his mouth, his eyes downcast.

The four of us are seated at the dining table. Edward and I are on one side and Alice and Mr Cullen on the other; the atmosphere is tense, at best.

Very discreetly, I squeeze Edward's thigh beneath the table. He places his hand over mine and leaves it there.

"Bella." His father switches his attention to me, and practically jumping out of my skin, I snap my head in his direction. "How have you been?"

"Good. Thank you, Mr Cullen," I answer politely.

"How are your parents?" he enquires, his eyes dropping to the steak he's carving into with his knife.

"They're fine," I offer simply.

"Any plans on what you're going to do next year?" he continues to probe, his gaze shifting intermittently between his meal and me and Edward.

"I'm waiting to get my HSC results back first."

"Applied to any universities?"

"Uh, yeah. Sydney, Wollongong and S-South West," I stammer, because describing Carlisle Cullen as intimidating would be a serious understatement.

He nods his head thoughtfully, and without another word, he resumes eating.

Beside me, Edward releases his breath a little too pointedly.

I turn to him, tilting my head in confusion. "What?" I mouth.

He only half shakes his head, his eyes almost immediately severing from mine.

"I hope you remember, Edward," Mr Cullen speaks up after several minutes of awkward silence; the only sounds coming from the pings of silver contacting with porcelain, "Bella was Alice's friend first."

Oh, god...

Edward instantly tenses, his expression hardening. He looks up and glares at his father, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Alice beats him to it.

"Dad, Bella's been friends with Edward for as long as she has with me," she says quietly, her forehead knotting even as she avoids her father's gaze at all costs.

With a short, cynical "_huh"_, Mr Cullen appears to drop it, but Edward is not happy.

"It's fine," I lean slightly into him and assure him in a whisper, but he doesn't have to tell me he's far from fine. We're both aware of it, and Alice is as well. She only stares at him with pleading behind her widening eyes.

"Here's the thing, Dad," Edward snaps after a full minute of feeling the momentum of anger and resentment building within him. His father looks up and eyes him closely. "Bella and I are together and that's not about to change anytime soon. Alice is on board with it, and so are her parents, and I don't need your permission." There's an open defiance in his tone, as though he were challenging him.

"Watch your mouth, Edward," his father warns after gazing at him for too many uncomfortable seconds, his eyes narrowing darkly.

"Bella's parents were _happy_ for us!" Edward deliberately defies him, and in return, Carlisle almost smirks.

"Charlie Swan's _happy_ you're dating his daughter?" he puts to him mockingly, both brows raised.

I immediately reach out and grab Edward's shirt under the table in a feeble attempt to placate him, but it has little effect on him.

"He told me I was welcome to stay over anytime I wanted to," Edward retorts, his tone just as derisive and sarcastic; his expression even more so.

I quickly shoot off a pleading look to Alice, hoping she can put a stop to what's very obviously escalating. She only shakes her head helplessly in my direction, and knowing it's going to be all up to me to diffuse it, I take a long, frustrated breath.

"Mr Cullen..." I begin, my voice wavering. He turns his gaze to me, his brow slightly drawn. "Edward got a concussion Saturday night. Four guys jumped him—"

"Bella—_stop_!" Edward immediately intervenes, the warning behind his eyes obvious. He's frustrated but he's also steadily growing impatient.

"Edwa—" I start to explain, but again, he doesn't allow me to finish.

"Just...stop talking."

"If Bella has something to say, I'd like to hear it," Carlisle speaks up calmly, as his eyes centre further on me. "You were saying?" he coaxes me to finish.

"Bell..." Edward murmurs practically beneath his breath and there's a pleading behind his tone this time.

I falter, my eyes flicking from Edward to his father nervously. "I..."

"Speak easy, Bella," his father again encourages.

"I just...wanted to say—please don't fight with him. He's still healing, and I don't want him to get hurt again." I regret those words the instant they pass my lips; more so when I turn to Edward.

He's fuming, and the second he meets my gaze, he turns away, scoffing to himself in what appears to be disbelief, and anger, a whole ton of anger.

"Edward's problem isn't whether he'll get hurt," Carlisle replies matter-of-factly, attracting both our attention. "It's whether he has any respect for anyone apart from himself."

Edward's only response is to snort only half beneath his breath, even as he continues eating. His expression's stony, and his hands are clenched so tightly around his knife and fork his knuckles have turned white.

"Dad..." Alice sighs, and by the tone of her voice, she's becoming just as angry. "Edward's not disrespectful."

Carlisle makes that sound again; that sceptical, dismissive noise that only makes the anger simmering skin deep within Edward to boil over.

"Do I need to be present while you all fucking discuss me!" he snaps, slamming his utensils to his plate with a loud _clang_.

"Watch your language!" Carlisle immediately fires back.

"Terribly sorry, _Dad_. Please continue shitting on me to my girlfriend," Edward replies, his voice hard with as much sarcasm as anger.

"You need to leave the table," Carlisle demands. He's tense, his jaw set and he looks three seconds from wrapping his hands around Edward's throat.

"Gladly," Edward mutters, and jerking back his chair with a loud scrape, he pulls himself to his feet and walks out of the room. His entire frame is rigid with anger, even as his shoulders slightly hang in defeat.

"I'm gonna go," I mumble, my eyes on my half eaten dinner.

"You might want to see how Edward is first, Bella," Carlisle suggests, and there's a definitive concern behind his voice.

Glancing up in surprise, I stare at him before nodding my head distracted. "Okay. Thanks for dinner. Bye, Alice."

"See ya, Bella," she whispers in return.

I knock once on Edward's door softly, before I apprehensively open it. He's sitting on his bed, both elbows propped against his knees with his forehead resting in his palms.

He glances up as I enter, and I pause. His eyes are not only hard with anger, but they almost appear resigned.

"Go home," he says without emotion before severing my gaze.

"Edward—" I begin when he interrupts me.

"Are you deaf?—get out!" he demands, rising to his feet before me, and it suddenly occurs to me exactly how tall he is, or how short I am.

"Why are you—" I attempt to argue, but again, he cuts me off.

"I told you not to say anything, but you did anyway!" His voice is accusing, and for normally such an easy going person, he's visibly angry.

"It-it was escalating..." I stammer, meekly. I can understand his anger, but it's obvious he can't understand my perspective.

"It's none of your business!" His voice rises until he's practically shouting at me.

I huff, flustered but fast growing frustrated, when he plants both hands to my shoulders and attempts to forcibly remove me from his room. I fight against him, and in the resulting struggle, I jerk a misplaced elbow into his already injured ribs.

An impulsive, pain-filled sound bursts from him, and he immediately releases me and practically goes down. For the longest minute, he stands with his head bowed and an arm wrapped around his chest.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, and not just for physically injuring him.

"It's not going to work," he replies in a quiet voice, his eyes remaining on the floor.

"What...?" I whisper.

He looks up, and his expression is unforgiving. "You made a fucking _idiot _out of me, Bella!"

"I'm sorry," I repeat helplessly. "I—what if the situation was reversed?" I quickly change tactics. "You'd do the same thing for me."

"I told you, I don't _need _your help," he says slowly and for the obvious impact it has on me.

"Well, sorry for fucking caring!" I burst. He's hurt me, and I'm struggling to prevent it from showing.

"If you _cared_ about me, you wouldn't deliberately fucking humiliate me!" His voice rises again, and in a fit of impatience, he whips his head away from me and drags his fingers stiffly through his hair.

"I didn't do it to humiliate you!" I declare, but he only jerks a shoulder dismissively.

"Get out, Bella. I don't want to be with you anymore." He sounds resolute and deadly serious, but I can only scoff in disbelief.

"So, we have one fight and you break up with me? And you call me a little kid," I mutter bitterly.

"I _warned_ you," he reminds me, folding his arms across his chest and meeting my gaze squarely.

I scoff again, louder this time with as much anger within it as pain. "You just wanted to fuck me!" I charge back, my voice softly breaking.

He snorts, and there's something almost ironic about it; as if he were going to tell me he told me so. "Yeah, that's pretty much what you think about me," he says more or less to himself, and walking past me, he shoves open his bathroom door and disappears behind it with a loud bang.

He hides out inside for roughly ten minutes, but when he eventually emerges, he looks up, catches my gaze and pulls up short. "Can't you take a hint?"

"Nope," I reply stubbornly, rising from my position on the edge of his bed. It's still neatly made from this morning. He didn't even comment on the fact that I'd changed his sheets, not to mention cleaned his entire room.

"I'm not in the fucking mood—just go home." He drops his head, sounding jaded as his drags his hand over it to the back of his neck.

"Nope," I repeat my stance. "If you can just break up with me because you're angry I tried to defend you, then you never really gave a shit about me."

"So?" he snaps, unmoved.

"_So_, I want you to prove it," I arc back.

"Prove _what_?" He stands before me and folds his arms over his chest again.

"That you were never serious about me." My voice wavers, as much as I tried to prevent it, and a slight smirk tugs on Edward's lips when he notices it.

"You can think what you like." He shrugs casually. "I'm just not stupid enough to continue something that I realise was a mistake."

"Because I tried to diffuse the situation between you and your father?" I burst in disbelief.

"Because you stuck your big, fat nose into something I _asked_ you to stay out of!"

"And that warrants breaking up with me?—like I screwed around on you?!" I demand, attempting to wrap my head around him, and I'm still not certain whether he's serious, or whether his only motive is to hurt me in return.

"It _warrants_ that you have no respect for me," he imitates me sarcastically. "You still see me as the arsehole from next door who doesn't know how to deal with his _arsehole_ father." His patience is obviously wearing thin, but that's when I get it; he's hurt, so he's trying to hurt me.

"Edward..." I whisper, growing infinitely close to tears. "I'm sorry, but you-you _know _me," I appeal to him, beginning to feel panic encircle my heart, but I can't bear the thought of not being with him.

"I _thought_ I knew you, but the person I thought you were is long gone. Or maybe it was never you," he admits in a soft voice even as his gaze remains steadfast and unwavering on mine.

I shake my head, at a loss with him and this uncharacteristic hostility he's displaying. "Edward..." My tears spill over, and before they can reach my cheeks I hastily swat them away.

He sighs, actually he huffs, sounding on the verge of some kind of laughter. "Jesus fucking Christ, just go home."

"No," I insist, clumsily wiping my eyes dry, even as they spill faster than I can keep up with.

"Don't you get it?" he states, his tone softening a second time before he roughly clears his throat. "It was never going to work with us. I'm just fucking glad I realised it before I lost years with you."

"Bullshit!" I'm immediately unconvinced. "Half an hour ago you told your father that you were with me and it was never going to change!"

"That was before you asked him not to beat me FUCKING _UP_!" he suddenly shouts, dragging both hands through his already dishevelled hair this time, and just as Alice bursts into his room, a look of concern overrunning her face.

"Bella..." She holds her hand out to me. "Come on."

"No!" I insist, shaking my head. "Who—" I reach up again and awkwardly wipe my tears away—"has sex with someone twice in one day and then breaks up with them! _Who_?"

"Jesus..." he mutters, tilting his head back to rub his eyes. "Just get her the fuck out of here, Alice."

"Answer me, you arsehole!" I blurt, having to restrain myself from shoving him.

"Bella..." Alice complains reaching for me but I jerk myself away from her.

"_Who_ does exactly what her so-called boyfriend explicitly asked her not to do not twenty fucking minutes later?" Edward ignores my question and retaliates in kind. "_You_, Bella...and I don't have time for this shit!"

"You say things in anger and then grovel back to me. You tell me you're sorry, and I always forgive you!" I'm beginning to ramble, shaking my head back and forth with as much frustration as confusion, even as he stands before me, a cynical brow cocked. "You told me Mike never deserved me. You told me you only wanted to be with me because I knew your history, and then—and then...you do _this_."

"And then, I realised I was wrong," he corrects me calmly, even while sounding completely resigned.

"Bullshit," I echo my previous statement, straightening my back with conviction. "Either everything you said to me was a lie, or you're just a flake who's only good at sex!"

"Or I made a mistake in thinking you're the same girl I once knew," he replies, driving in the knife and twisting it. "Remember what you were like, Bella?" he puts to me. "You always had my back. If I asked you to keep something secret you took it to the grave, and now you fucking disregard me the first chance you get."

"Edward, _come on_!" Alice snaps, drawing both of our attention back to her. "Stop talking now before you say something you'll regret."

"Get out and take her with you!" he barks back, a deep scowl transfixing his expression. I barely recognise him behind it.

"Bella's not ten years old anymore, and neither are you," Alice continues regardless.

"I know she's not. That's the whole fucking problem."

"How does that makes sense? Are you the same, you moron? And, in case it wasn't obvious," she adds before he can answer, "what she did back there"—her finger thrusts out in the direction of the dining room—"was because she _still _has your back!"

"If she had my back, she would've kept her mouth shut when I asked her to."

"You wouldn't have broken your promise!" I break in, my tears quickly giving way to conviction.

"What promise?" he demands sceptically.

"That you wouldn't provoke him!" I fire back.

"I _didn't_!"

"Stop bullshitting, Edward," Alice pipes up. "I heard you from the kitchen. You talk to him like shit—he _just_ got home!"

He opens his mouth to reply, but falters, and the longer it opens and closes in silence, the more frustrated he steadily becomes. "Just—get out, the two of you."

"Fine, I'll go," I concede defeat when Alice takes my hand and pulls me toward the door. "But just"—I turn back to him one last time—"I love you, Edward. Even though you can't say it back, and even though I grew up and lost sight of you. I still love you. I love you even though you're just a lost little boy who misses his mother and who thinks it's acceptable to hurt someone when he's hurting, and I _know you_," I interject when he draws breath to respond, after I watched his expression turn stricken with each word out of my mouth. "Better than you know yourself!"

* * *

**A/N: I should probably edit out the "zero angst" from the A/N in chapter one. I seriously can't help it. I swear, it's like some inherent, built-in default setting with me. Don't hate me. Or you can, that's okay. **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I'm doing a quick update for a couple of reasons. I'm going to be insanely busy this week and not at home a lot. I have a bazillion things on. Also, it's to make up for the kinda-sorta hiatus I put it on awhile back. I've also written a few more chapters. I don't think there's much more to go now :'(  
Thanks Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 31**

For the next week, Edward barely speaks to me. There's no more "Boog" or "Bell", nor flicking my forehead or clamping my nose. Nothing. I'm back to being "Bella", and ironically, I've never missed being called "snotface" more in my entire life.

Actually, I can't even say for certain that I'm even Bella anymore. He hasn't addressed me at all, even when he was forced to acknowledge me and that was only twice. Both times he opened the door to me when I came to see Alice. At least, he assumed I was there to see Alice, because he made it clear he wasn't receptive to anything else.

"Hey," he mumbled, his tone even; he wasn't giving anything away.

"Hey," I echoed in a whisper, my eyes falling to the tiles beneath my feet.

I half expected him to ask what I was looking at, but he didn't. He simply pulled the door open wider to allow me to enter, then turned his back on me and left the room without another word. It stung, and to make matters worse, he's made no attempt to contact me, but then, neither have I.

I realise we're in some kind of stalemate, but I'm just as angry as I am hurt. No matter which way I look at it, he deflected his pain onto me in an effort to rid it from himself. It was clearer than all our childhood memories. The death of his mother, the problems he now has with his father, he's unable to deal with them, and his coping mechanism is to immediately offload it.

To me.

I'm beginning to believe him when he said it wouldn't work between us, and the fear and panic over it is starting to consume me. I'm worried he's right.

"Did I deserve it?" I ask Alice the following Friday night, on day ten of—whatever the hell we are. I can't accept we've broken up, but I'm steadily running out of denial.

We're hanging in her room, on her bed, wiling away the hours with nothing much to do. Jas is having a boy's night, leaving Alice free, despite the fact that she's spent every spare moment with me over that last week and a half, and Edward is...I have no idea; just that he's _out_ and he didn't take his car.

"I would have advised against it," Alice says with deliberate delicacy, pulling her attention momentarily from her phone, "but, of course, you didn't deserve it. He over-reacted like he always does when it comes to Dad."

"But...he's..." I abandon it. I'm not sure what he is, but then I was never sure about him, and I'm also not sure if I'll ever forgive myself over it. Or forgive him. Or if I even know where my head's at right now.

"Bella," Alice begins, pausing to exhale a heavy breath, "you just got in between. It wasn't your fault." I'm sure she meant to reassure me, but it has the opposite effect on me.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," I lament pointlessly. It's not the first time I've spoken those words, and Alice is aware of it more than anyone. Instead, she only nods her head in understanding, but with a little too much ferocity.

"_You_ didn't hurt him—_Dad_ hurt him." Those words aren't new to me either. We're both repeating ourselves, with no idea how to move forward. Alice can no more help me out of this situation than I can help myself, and I'm starting to doubt whether I really know Edward at all. Whether he was always such an impulsive, deliberately hurtful arsehole.

"I miss him," I whisper despite myself and every rational thought I'm still wrestling with. And unable to hold them off, tears slowly trickle down my nose as I hug Alice's pillow to my chest. For the last three weeks, Edward and I were practically glued to each other, and the absence of him now is stark. I've cried every single day since the Tuesday before last, but every tear I've shed has been completely futile. They've no more taken the pain away than they've brought him back.

But even if he did come back, what would I say to him?

Renee is currently in denial, more so than I am. She even gave me a reprieve from babysitting duty tonight. I wish she didn't, though. Jake keeps me busy and my mind diverted, because keeping it focused on Edward is becoming unbearable. Even so, there was no break up kit, no sex manual, and no words of wisdom. She simply squeezed my side and told me exactly what Alice has been repeatedly echoing, "Give him time."

Time, though, is running out, and Edward's convictions don't appear to be wavering, nor mine for that matter.

I didn't live up to his expectations, and he gave up on me, and while I'm really not sure what I expected from him, it definitely wasn't this.

We're over before we barely begun, and all I can really grasp from it is confusion.

"He misses you, too," Alice assures me, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulder. "He's just...gotta work stuff out. There's no way he's going to end things with you so soon." She doesn't sound exactly confident. In fact, I'm certain she's saying exactly what I want to hear; unless I'm just seeing everything now through a lens of pessimism.

"So, if he apologises, what do I do? Just smile and wait for the next time he takes his bullshit with your dad out on me?"

Alice pauses and gauges me even as she nods her head slowly in silent agreement. "Do you _want_ to work things out?"

"Yes," I admit sheepishly, despite the fact that my head is shaking subconsciously to the contrary. "At least I'm no longer a virgin," I mumble stupidly, before descending into sobs.

I think Alice meant to laugh. At least, that's what it sounded like as she attempted to console me. Not because it's funny. Pathetic, maybe. It's the closet word I can use the describe it.

Let's face it, I broke up with two people in the space of a month, and while I can't really compare Mike with Edward, all I can think is that Lauren kept him around for two years. Lauren Mallory, who screwed around on him and who doesn't have anywhere near the history with him as I do, was able to have somewhat of a relationship with him where I couldn't.

If pathetic isn't the right word, I'm not sure what is.

"He's got all these layers—shithead, smart arse, arsehole—takes nothing seriously..." I shake my head past the absolute bewilderment of him. "But beneath it all, he's in pain. He always was." I feel like I'm trying to convince myself as equally as I'm explaining it to Alice, even as I attempt, and fail, to pull myself together. "And we had sex in the treehouse." I fully embrace the word _pathetic_ and completely fall apart.

"I know," Alice says gently, sounding like she's on the verge of laughter again. "I saw."

"_What_?" I momentarily forget myself in mortification. "You _saw_?"

"Well, I didn't _see_, see, but it was pretty obvious what you were up to." She smiles at me sadly; the way you do when you're reminiscing about times long past.

"Alice!" I protest, and it's not because of what she may or may not have seen.

"I'm sorry," she says remorsefully, but I know she gets it. She gets her shithead, complicated brother, as well as me and all my boyfriend-repelling tendencies.

It's not just a boyfriend I've lost, though. This is nothing like my break-up with Mike. This is losing my past, a part of my identity, and half my heart simultaneously.

"Was he looking for an out?" I speculate, putting it to Alice as a question after pulling my damp face from her rabidly dampening cushion. "It was so..._over the top_."

Alice sighs for the infinite time that night and appears to mull it over for a couple of seconds. "I don't know, Bella," she concedes. She's serious, and it doesn't give me much hope.

"I should have never gone down that road with him," I murmur, wishing I hadn't so profoundly right now, even as I know I'll never fully regret it.

"He practically pushed you into it," she reminds me.

"And yet he couldn't wait to get out of it," I declare, shaking my head past it again. It doesn't make any sense, but then maybe I just don't want to see what's right before my eyes.

Denial is a powerful thing.

Alice gazes at me, but says nothing; she only sighs wearily to herself one more time and resumes browsing her Instagram.

"How's he been?" I ask in a whisper, unsure I really want the answer.

"...Off," she eventually answers in a quiet voice, frowning to herself.

"How do you mean?"

"He's been really moody, but he hasn't said anything. He usually shrugs things off, but he's hanging onto this. When he broke up with Lauren he looked relieved." She breaks from her phone to glance over at me, throwing me an awkward smile.

I return it, fleetingly. "I'm not sure..." I don't finish. I can't; I'm not sure there are words adequate enough to describe the mess my emotions are in.

Her smile turns sad again, and for a moment she looks on the verge of tears along with me. But pulling herself quickly together, she slides herself to the edge of the bed and swings her legs to the floor.

"Wanna pig out?" It's a suggestion she's made more than once, but I always declined. Pigging out means it's over, and I'm not ready to accept it just yet. But maybe it's time.

"Okay," I mumble, even as my chest clenches in pain.

"'Kay. Be right back." And squeezing my shoulder with affection she hauls herself to her feet and leaves the room.

I follow her half an minute later, only to immediately turn around and leave. The instant she opened the pantry door all I could see was Edward's Coco Pops. My throat began to choke behind my rapidly returning tears, and I knew I had to escape before I completely lost it.

I don't return to Alice's room, though. As if on auto-pilot I head to Edward's.

It's a complete mess. Clothes and various food wrappers are all over his floor, his bed's unmade, and empty glasses and Coke cans litter just about every surface. His computer's off, and with an obviously masochist degree of curiosity, I walk to his desk and shake his mouse. His Razer keyboard lights up first, letting me know it's not shut down but only asleep, before his screensaver switches on. That's when the tears break free and spill endlessly down my face.

I expected to see the busty blonde, but it's still me; it's the same photo he uploaded just after the formal.

Sinking to the edge of his bed, I grab his pillow and press it to my face, deeply inhaling the scent of him all over it. It takes all my willpower not to lay down and lose myself in those couple of weeks we'd spent more time than I'd ever imagined here. Where we talked and laughed for hours on end; where I slept in his arms and felt completely at ease; where we fooled around together; and where I eventually lost my virginity.

He's still the only boy I can say more than two coherent words to, and who I can maintain eye contact with for longer than three seconds. He's the only boy who makes me recall who I am behind the crippling shyness I've always suffered from, and I'm honestly not sure I'll ever be the same with anyone else.

"Bella...?" Alice breaks gently into my thoughts.

I look up at her through my tears, but it's not enough to obscure the obvious pain in her expression. "I'm sorry," I mumble for reasons unknown. I tell myself it's for forcing her through this along with me, but she'd never buy it.

Her arms are full of ice-cream, chocolate, and chip packets, and dumping them on Edward's dresser she sits herself beside me and curls her arm around my waist. "Look?" she prompts softly, tilting her chin past me.

I follow her gaze to Edward's side table, and then to the framed photo propped up against it, and for the longest moment I'm without words. It's of the two of us together at the formal. Alice took it when I was sitting on Edward's lap at the dining table we were seated at.

"When...?" I begin, but abandon it as I pick it up to inspect it closer. There's a slight smirk on Edward's face, reminding me why I was perched on top of him in the first place, and it threatens to completely shatter my heart. It's so quintessentially him; the shithead who I once thought would never stop torturing me while I repeatedly talked myself into feeling nothing for him but exasperation.

I still question how I could have been so blind.

"I noticed it a couple of days ago when I came in here looking for my iPad. He did this recently, Bella, so it's _not_ over for him," she assures me, and it's the first time I've felt hope warm my heart since that dreaded Tuesday when his father came home.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with him!?" I burst with as much heartbreak as frustration.

"When he comes grovelling back—_and_ he will—make it known you're not going to tolerate being his emotional punching bag. You deserve better than that!" She's insistent, her voice full of conviction, and she's right. I know she is, because I've been telling myself the same thing for the last week and a half.

"But, why won't he talk to me?!" I exclaim, my frustration again giving way to pain. "Why is he treating me like this is all _my_ fault?"

"Because he's ashamed of himself, and he's hiding away hoping enough time will pass that you'll be able to forgive him."

I scoff and almost laugh dryly. "Of course I'll forgive him, but I'm...beginning to think he's right. Maybe we're not good for each other. Maybe I bring out the worst in him—"

"Maybe he needs to pull his head out of his arse before he loses you for good!" she breaks in, sounding suddenly impatient. "Bella, stop taking all this on yourself."

"I know," I concede, releasing my breath in a wavering gush. "I just...don't know where to go from here."

"I give him another day. Mark my words," she asserts, squeezing me in conclusion and I wish I could say I shared her confidence.

I throw her a badly put-together smile, but she's no more convinced than I am.

The fact remains; I've lost complete faith in the boy next door.

**. . .**

I really do need to start giving Alice more credit. She gave Edward a day, but in actual fact, he didn't last another hour. Just after midnight and after polishing off a tub of choc-mint ice-cream—while every bite reminded me of eating it with Edward—my phone's message alert signalled.

**Imn sort Bel;. You deservr betetr thab mee. **

I expected it to be from my mother—she's been messaging me every hour on the hour for a week to check in on me—but it's not. It's from Edward, but I still stare at it for way too long, attempting to make sense of it.

"He's drunk," Alice comes to the same obvious conclusion I do, as I groan out loud.

"Bloody hell!—how am I supposed to respond to this?"

"Tell him he's right," she replies; though, she's not really serious.

I huff in frustration, but I can't deny the relief I feel to have any kind of communication from him. Even when he's drunk.

**I know.** I type, but to his apology or his statement I'm not altogether sure. I'm pretty sure it might be both.

**I;m cominh homw comt anf talj to mw?**

"Oh my god," I mutter, bowing my head into my out-stretched hand.

"I'm coming home. Come and _talk to me_?" Alice attempts to decipher it, gazing at me for validation.

"I assume so..."

"Don't reply. He can come to you!"

He does.

Not half an hour later we hear him stumble through the front door, before his uncoordinated footsteps head in the direction of Alice's room.

"Bell!" He bangs loudly and erratically on her door, before it bursts open and he all but falls face first on the floor. "Hey..." He struggles to pull himself to his full height even as he sways on his feet. His face is flushed, his ears are beet red, and his eyes are bleary and bloodshot. Not to mention his hair; it's surpassed chaotic and is inching into the apocalypse.

Yeah, he's drunk, all right; fall-down, words slurred, on the verge of projectile vomiting, drunk. In fact, I'm pretty certain he's created a new definition for the term.

I release an exasperated breath, but I can't prevent my heart from going out to him. He's a complete mess, but still as insanely handsome as ever. Especially now that the grazes on his face from the night of the formal have almost completely healed.

"Sorry, b-boog," he stammers and then hiccups, before wedging both hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and throwing me a drunken, culpable smile.

"You should be sorry," I murmur, because despite him and me and everything I realise I'll always feel, anger is still at the forefront of my emotions.

"I a-am." He bows his head, sways again and almost loses his footing—enough that his hands spring out to brace himself against the doorframe.

"I'm going to call Jas," Alice speaks up quietly from beside me. "Go and make some coffee."

I sigh again, brashly this time, and pull myself off the bed along with her. "Come on," I say stiffly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as I pass him.

He's reeking with the stench of alcohol—so much that I'm forced to hold my breath—but without a word he allows me to drag him into the kitchen; even as he stumbles behind me, almost tripping over his own feet several times.

"Is-is it h-hot in here?" he asks after practically falling into a chair at the breakfast table.

"No," I reply, my back turned to him as I switch on the kettle and rummage around for milk and sugar.

"Boog..."

"Bella," I correct him. "You're not allowed to call me that anymore."

"R-Really?" He hiccups again, even as his voice is laced with disbelief.

"_Really_," I reiterate, stretching up and pulling two mugs from the overhead cupboard.

"Bell-a... Can I still c-call you Bell?" he asks from behind me, his voice sounding so overrun that I turn and face him.

He smiles, and while it's obvious he's trying to appear at ease, all I can see is that underlying vulnerability that's always existed within him.

I sigh again, feeling my shoulders sag with it, and without a word I continue making coffee.

"Are you okay?" I ask after placing a mug in front of him. He's staring ahead, looking dazed, while sweat is beginning to bead along his brow.

"It's...fucking hot in here," he mumbles, reaching up to wipe his forehead and almost falling sideways from the chair.

I spring out and catch him, struggling to keep him upright, when without warning he suddenly pulls himself to his feet. "Let's go out-outside."

Without waiting for me to answer, he turns and staggers toward the front entrance. And picking up his coffee, as well as mine, I trail after him.

I sit down on the single step of the porch, while Edward lays spread-eagled on his back in the middle of the lawn. And to make matters worse, it's starting to rain.

I realise attempting to move him right now will be futile, so behind a heavy breath, I bow my head and I massage my brow with my fingers.

"Bell...?" he mumbles after a minute where I was certain he'd fallen unconscious.

"Yeah?" I reply softly.

He struggles to pull himself into a sitting position before he slumps forward, his head practically between his propped knees. "I fuck-ed it, didn't I?"

"...No," I say after almost telling him he had, but it'd be a lie. He was a complete shithead but it wasn't enough to fuck it. To fuck us.

"Yeah, I did..." He takes a shuddering breath and groans. "Fuck..."

"Edward, come out of the rain." It's steadily picking up in momentum, and he's starting to get drenched.

"Nah...it f-feels good," he stutters, placing both hands to the ground as if anchoring himself.

"Is the ground spinning?" I ask lightly, almost smiling to myself.

"Just...a lot," he says, scoffing wryly.

"Are you okay?" I ask again, not sure whether I should be worried about him, or not. I've already been thrown up over once, after all.

"Fine. Come here." He clumsily pats the grass beside him. "I can't talk to you when you're all the way ov"—he hiccups again—"er there."

"It's raining," I point out the obvious.

"Just get your arse over here," he slurs, and I don't think he meant to sound as pitiful as he did, but I comply regardless.

Pulling myself reluctantly to my feet, I step out into the rain and join him on the lawn.

It was hot today, a typical steamy mid-December's day, and the rain is actually soothing against, not only my skin, but my frayed emotions.

"Hey..." He turns to me and slumps a heavy arm around my neck. "I'm really...am s-sorry, boog," he continues to stammer, and leaning forward he presses an awkward kiss to my temple and almost slides down my face.

"I know..." I say quietly, hanging my head.

"I hurt you." His voice falls in mirror to mine, and he expels a deep breath. "Fuck..."

"You just become...someone else when you're around him," I attempt to explain, while knowing he probably won't remember any of this in the morning.

"Yeah..." he agrees, taking another momentous breath as his shoulders sag with it. "I love you, Bell, but I can't say it. Don't be mad, okay?"

It takes me a moment to realise exactly what he spoke, just as my eyes well with tears. "I won't be..." I promise him.

He shakes his head erratically, appearing suddenly frustrated. "I didn't realise. I-I never want to be hurt like that again. I didn't realise, Bell. I didn't realise..."

I shake my head with him, insistently. I need him to believe me, to keep the faith in me that he always claimed he had.

"I won't hurt you, Edward." My voice falls to a whisper, my tears spilling over.

He gazes at me for a couple of seconds as a small, sad smile pulls slowly across his face. "I...dunno. Sometimes I think, that girl I knew? She's b-better off staying in my memory."

"But I'm not in your memory! I'm right here. Next door."

"B-Bell, it's not you. I'm a fucking prick. I expect you-you to be perfect. I'm an idiot, and Jesus, boog, you're such an idiot too."

I gently shake my head, unsure of his meaning. "Why?"

"You asked my old man not to hit me." He scoffs to himself and almost laughs, even as rain hits his face and runs over his lips. "It was just so fucking _you_, boog. Jesus, it all came back. There she is. Goofy, snotface. And I…love you, snotface. I always have."

I falter again, continuing to gaze at him, and wondering whether he realises he's just said it twice. "I know, Edward. I really do. Will you talk to me again?"

"Yeah... I don't know. I'm just fucking scared. I thought...I could just coast, you know. Not get hurt. Fuck, then I remembered. You and that fucking pencil dick, made me remember!" He's losing coherency as the seconds pass, even as the rain appears to be helping sober him up.

"...What did you remember?"

"Please remember, Bell. Please remember why I'm so fucked...up. Why you can fuck me up more."

"Can't you just tell me?" I appeal to him, wishing he'd give me something—anything—to jog my memory.

He shakes his head. "No. I can't talk about it. I just can't. I can't say I love you. I can't. It's shit, but I can't."

"I'll say it for you."

"Hey." He plants his palm to my cheek. "Don't cry over me. Don't..."

"I'm not crying," I insist, wiping the evidence away along with the rain that's becoming relentless. "I love you. You opened my eyes again."

He pauses before an audible sigh escapes his lips. "I know. Just give me some time. I won't always be a coward. I just have to work out how I can have more than just sex with you."

"Edward..." I shake my head again, confused.

"You know how hard it's been. Ignoring y-you. Fucking hell—what have I done?"

"I'm not mad—just come back to me. We don't have to say those words. We can make new ones up," I plead with him. "I don't know how to not be with you." I sound a little too desperate, but Alice was right when she said Edward gets in your face and forces your emotions. He does. He _did_, and he's doing it right now.

"You just are, Bell. You're always with me. Always. Pain in the neck, you were born with me. I-I promised mum, anyway. Fuck..." Turning from me he tears up a clump of grass in his fist in a fit of obvious frustration.

"What did you promise her?" I put to him tentatively.

"I'd marry you."

"_What_?" My voice practically fails.

"I know, it was lame, but I was a kid and I loved you even back then. Mum, she got me, though. She got me. You get me. Alice... she just pretends shit's not happening. I can't blame her though. She's like the old man. I'm like him, as well."

"Edward... Can..." I begin when he almost immediately interrupts

"Bell, just don't talk for a while, okay. You talk so much. I get so caught up in it. I forget."

"What do you forget?" I whisper.

"Everything. Sometimes I think, it's not real. It can't be real. You were right, you know."

"What about?"

"I'm a scared little boy. You're fucking right. I-I can't help it. Once you've had your heart torn out like that, you're just... scared."

"I promise, Edward—I'll never hurt you," I vow, grabbing his hand and forcing him to look at me. He's continuing to yank out the grass, pulling fistfuls of it out in his hand.

He looks up and stares at me; his hair's plastered wet to his forehead while his eyes reflect that completely raw pain that he's so good at concealing. "You can't promise me that. I-I"—he shudders and almost appears to choke on the words—"can't promise you that. I'm too much of an arsehole. I know. You're right, Bell. About me. You're r-right."

"You're not an arsehole!" I insist.

"I am," he immediately counters. "I can be my old man if I'm not careful. I'm trying not to be. I really am. Shit, please don't leave me."

"I won't," I promise, my voice dropping to an emotionally affected whisper.

"I can't do that again," he continues, gazing into my eyes as though he were pleading with me.

"Can't do what?" I ask gently.

"Fucking mourn. You know how shit it is? How it fucking eats away at you? I hated it as much as I hated mum for leaving me."

Tears are beginning to flood me, and I realise I've lost as much control of them as my heart. "I'm so sorry."

"Bell... You tried so hard. To fix Alice. I-I-I watched you, and I wanted you to help me, but I didn't want to be around anyone. It wasn't you, Bell. You never lost sight of me. I just pulled back." He shakes his head, but he's rambling again, and I realise he's cracking open. I might never hear him be this open again, but at the same time listening to him unearth all this pain is unbearable.

"Edward...do you really want to break up with me?"

"Of course I don't," he answers without hesitation.

"Then why?"

"I just realised...maybe it'd just be too much pain for both of us. If it didn't w-work out."

"It _will_ work out!" I stand firm. "I promise I'll never say anything to your dad again. I _promise_!"

"I don't know, Bell..." He expels a weary breath as his head hangs forward. "I don't know..."

"Edward..." I'm crying again, hopelessly crying, but I don't know what's hurting more; realising the extent of pain Edward's been concealing all these years or hearing him express his doubt so openly about us.

"Bell... I'm-I'm sorry..." He doesn't look at me.

"You can't open my heart again and then slam it shut. You can't do that to me! I'm sorry, Edward. What I said to your dad—I'm so sorry!"

He's shaking his head before he raises it, and when he does his eyes are practically on fire. "_Hey_!" His voice rises sharply. "I told you. It wasn't you. So d-don't say sorry. Don't s-say it. I don't fucking d-deserve it!"

"You told me to stay out of it. I sh-should have." My breath shudders, and despite the rain obscuring my tears, I still attempt to swat them away.

He continues to shake his head, slower this time, even as he gauges me as though I confuse him. "It's just fucked up, me and him. I-I know, but he only hits me because I l-let him. You don't need to protect me f-from him. I have to fucking protect _you_ from h-him."

"Don't let him hit you!" I cry. "_Don't_."

"He needs to hit me, Bell," he admits sounding completely resigned, and it's heart-wrenching. "He needs...to feel something, and I'm a...I'm a prick to him. Midget is right, but it's okay. I j-just can't hit my old man. Mum loved him. He w-wasn't always l-like that."

"Christ, Edward, it's not okay!"

"Bell, please. Don't..." Turning away from me, he sways again. He looks suddenly on the verge of either throwing up or passing out.

Gripping his shirt in both my fists, I hold him steady, but he's way too heavy, and being semi-conscious is only making him heavier. "Let's get out of the rain..."

He shakes his head in a slow, sluggish movement. "Just...stay with me one more night, 'kay?"

"I can't Edward," I explain, fighting to keep my tears at bay; to not allow them to compromise my convictions. "It's either over or it isn't. I can't do this half-way—whatever it is. I _can't_."

"You're g-gonna get hurt," he murmurs, closing his eyes.

"I won't if you're just honest with me, but you can't just—_Edward_?"

He slumps against me and all but pushes me back on the wet grass with him, but that's when I realise.

He's out cold.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked. Or not. Feel free to review. Or flame. All good.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Hope everyone's enjoying isolation and staying safe. We're doing okay down here. Only a handful of people have died; though, our idiot bureaucrats responsible for running the country did let a cruise ship full of infected people just walk right in. God help us.  
**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 32**

Knowing we absolutely could not wake up Carlisle to haul Edward's unconscious body inside, Alice and I attempt to budge him ourselves. After no more than five minutes, we quickly realised the error in that plan. We both ended up exhausted and mud-splattered with no possible way of getting Edward inside without injuring ourselves.

"I'll call Jas," Alice says, massaging her brow with exasperation, but even Jasper, at 5'10 and several inches shorter than Edward, struggles, until I'm forced to get my father.

Charlie has no trouble with him. After dumping Edward, soaking clothes and all, on his unmade bed, he turns to me with a genuine look of concern etched into his features.

"Make sure he stays on his side, and you might want to get a bucket."

I nod and glance at Alice. She sighs and shakes her head.

"Don't think I'm going to be looking after his pukey arse," she speaks up, arching a very pointed brow, while it appears to go unnoticed to her that my father's still in the room.

"Keep an eye on him, Bella," he adds matter-of-factly before turning to leave.

I can only stare after him, blinking vacantly, before my gaze returns to Alice. "Did my father just give me permission to stay with him?"

She grins. "I think so."

"God..." I sigh, rubbing my eyes wearily. "Get that bucket." I'm not going to get thrown up over again.

"I'm on it."

In the end, he didn't need it. After snoring for five hours straight, Edward promptly bolted upright out of a dead sleep and ran to the bathroom where he threw up what sounded like the last months' worth of stomach content.

He re-emerges several minutes later and clumsily turns on his bedroom light, and despite how obviously pale he is, he appears relieved more than anything. I expected him to look like death warmed up. That's how I felt the last time I was hungover.

"Do you want me to get you a glass of water?" I offer, deliberately lowering the pitch of my voice.

He flashes me a sheepish grin and lowers his head, running his hand to the back of his neck to deliberately break my gaze. "Yeah, thanks, Bell. Can you see if there's any Beroccas?"

"Sure. Where do you keep them?"

"Erm...second shelf in the pantry, I'm pretty sure..." He won't look at me, but if I thought he'd still be angry at me, I was worried for nothing. Anger with Edward is stark, and right now, it's the furthest thing he's feeling.

After stumbling around in the semi-darkness of early morning, I reach the kitchen and find the Beroccas; on the top shelf, not the second. When I return to Edward's room, he's back in his bathroom, brushing his teeth this time.

"I had that taste in my mouth," he mumbles in explanation as I hand him the glass.

I only nod and throw him half a smile in response.

He sits on the edge of his bed and downs the vitamin drink in seconds. I can only marvel at him and how well he recovers until he gazes at me and raises a curious brow.

"What?"

I shake my head, scoffing past it. "Nothing."

"Hey..." His voice softens and becomes husky.

"Hm?"

"I'm really sorry, Bell," he says earnestly, as his breath gushes behind it. "I'm just a...fucking prick." He drags his fingers through his hair in obvious frustration as if to reiterate it, but I shake my head.

"Don't worry about it."

He draws his breath as if to argue, but cuts himself short and buries his forehead in his palm. "Fuck, my head..."

"You're dehydrated."

He laughs dryly. "Yeah."

"You okay?"

He glances up at me and this time his smile is genuine. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks for staying."

"My dad ordered it."

"Your dad?" he echoes in disbelief.

"Yep."

"How did he...?" He doesn't elaborate, and this time it's me who breaks into a grin.

"You really want to know?"

"Not really," he mutters, before dropping his head to his hands again and groaning lowly to himself.

I sit beside him apprehensively, contemplating whether I should reach out and touch him when he wraps his arm around me and tugs me closer.

"I don't want to be that guy, Bell..." he says sounding as though he were speaking to himself.

"What guy?" I ask softly in confusion.

"The guy that treats his girl like shit, apologises and then does the same thing a week later."

I sigh deeply and break into a small smile. "Okay, last week you were a complete arsehole to me, but I really can't think of any other time when you've taken your problems with your dad out on me."

"Yeah, but still..." he mumbles, his eyes on the floor. "I just let him...get under my skin," he huffs, sounding frustrated with himself, "and I knew what I was saying to you but I was just so fucking pissed off I couldn't stop."

"I know..." I assure him, prodding him gently.

"I'm going to fuck it up. I thought I could handle it with you, but...I'm not sure I can," he finishes, his voice dropping to a whisper, and just as my heart stalls.

"What do y-you mean?" I ask stammering and barely able to find my voice.

"I told you," he looks up and meets my gaze squarely, and his eyes, while still partially bloodshot, are completely overrun, "if it ends badly, it's going to..." He doesn't finish; instead, he drags his hand back through his hair again.

"Edward, you're being too hard on yourself. You took your anger with your dad out on me, I get that, but Jesus..."

"Remember what I said?" he says after a moment of gauging me, only this time his voice is almost light.

"What?"

"You can't stop fighting with me. You're not supposed to take my shit, remember?"

I smile along with him and expel my breath. "I don't take your shit."

"You told me you loved me. It made me feel a fuckton worse."

"I do, though," I say simply, shrugging my shoulders.

"I know you do," his voice turns tender before he momentarily presses his face to the side of my head. "You know I do, too, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I reply, smiling subtly to myself as I recall his double confession last night.

Two types of people tell the truth: Kids and drunk people—as my mother says.

"What?" He nudges me.

"Nothing," I quickly cover.

"Fuck, what did I say?" he asks because the shithead is perceptive.

"You were mostly rambling," I answer, and it's not exactly a lie.

"Rambling about what?" he pushes even as he closes his eyes, his forehead contorted.

"How you promised to marry me—"

"Fuck!"

"And how _pencil dick_ made you remember," I add with a smirk as he groans loudly.

"What...?"

"And how you were worried about getting hurt," I continue, my voice dropping seriously this time.

He doesn't reply, and when I glance at him, he flashes me an awkward smile even as the frown remains deeply knotting his forehead. "Bell..."

"You weren't making a lot of sense," I quickly reassure him before he can finish.

"It's true though," he mumbles, avoiding my gaze again. "I-I've never been with someone who scares the fuck out of me like you do."

"Why do I scare you?" I ask, genuinely confused, and maybe a little hurt.

"You don't know?" he asks dubiously, and when I shake my head in answer, he expels a frustrated breath. "Because it'll rip my heart out."

"...I told you, I won't hurt you," I remind him, and when his eyes meet mine, they're instilled with a deep-seated sadness.

"There are no guarantees, boog." He clamps my nose then, gently, and I very nearly burst into tears. "What?" he enquires noticing, his tone teasing. "You're not getting weepy on me again, are you?"

I elbow him and immediately open my mouth to apologise, worried I've hurt him again, but he only laughs gently.

"You ignored me for ten days straight, you arsehole!" I complain, nudging him begrudgingly this time.

"I wasn't ignoring you," he insists.

"You barely spoke three words to me," I point out.

"You spoke to me twice. 'Hey' and 'Is Alice home?'" He raises his brows in emphasis.

"But...?"

"I knew I'd have to give you more than a couple of days to cool down this time," he explains a little more seriously. "I wasn't sure if you were going to forgive me. You were pretty pissed."

"I was," I admit, "but I was hurt more."

"Shit, Bell."

I shrug an apologetic shoulder. "I was, though."

"Okay, you're going to have to hit me or something," he decides.

"What?" I ask blankly.

"I deserve it. Go on." He places his index finger to his chin and juts it out.

"I'm not hitting you."

"Hit me—we'll both feel better."

"No."

"_Hit me_!"

"_No_!"

"Fuck, you're a pain in the neck," he complains before he takes a handful of my left breast and squeezes.

On absolute impulse, I suck in my breath and almost jump ten feet in the air. "Ow—you arsehole! That hurt!"

"Well, _hit me_," he over exaggerates it.

"I'm not going to hit you," I insist with an exasperated huff.

"If you don't hit me, I'll grab the other one," he threatens, his grin far too cagey for someone who was dead-on-his-feet drunk only a few hours earlier.

I scowl at him and huff. "Fine!"

"Okay."

"On three," I warn him.

"You're only going to slap me, right?" he asks suddenly sceptical.

"Yes."

"Okay. One..."

"Two..." I raise my left hand to slap his face, and with my right, I grab a handful of his _family jewels_ and squeeze—a lot harder than he groped me. "Three."

His expression immediately smooths out in shock as a strangled, guttural sound burst from him. Then, sounding as though he were laughing and crying simultaneously, he falls back against his bed with his knees drawn to his chest. "Motherfuck..."

"We're even," I say, grinning over my shoulder at him with satisfaction.

"Fuck, Bella, you're going to make me puke again," he utters in a rigid voice, suddenly taking on a sallow tinge.

I laugh lightly, and grabbing my hand, he pulls me down against him.

"I'm sorry," I offer, feeling a teensy bit bad, but he only chuckles beneath his breath.

"I deserved it," he replies, his voice continuing to take on a jagged edge. "Thanks, Bell..."

"Why?" I ask, resting my lips to the side of his neck and breathing him in. I've missed the salty spice that's his scent, more than I'd ever imagined.

"For forgiving me even when I don't deserve it."

"Just...don't do it again," I say quietly, frowning to myself.

"I won't. I promise."

"You already broke your promise, remember?" I bring up what started all this, and he sighs with deliberately feigned frustration.

"Okay, I can't make any promises when it comes to my old man, but when it comes to you and me, I can. Alright...?"

I hum softly.

"Bell...?" He sounds suddenly uncertain.

"Yeah?" I tilt my head to glance up at him.

"You believe me, right?" He gazes at me, his expression almost vulnerable.

"I believe you," I assure him, breaking into a warm smile.

"Good," he murmurs.

"Hmm..." I mumble sleepily this time. While Edward slept like the dead, I barely got five minutes of shut-eye.

"Bell?"

"Yeah?" I reply, my eyes closed.

"Why the fuck am I wet?"

"You laid down in the front yard in the rain," I say candidly, snorting my laughter through my nose when he groans again.

"Fuck..."

"You want to change?" I lift my head drowsily to meet his eyes.

"Yeah." And shuffling out from under me, he pulls himself to his feet and peels his damp clothes from his body down to his underwear. Switching off his light, he draws me between his sheets with him. "Is this midget's?" he asks, tugging on the t-shirt I'm wearing.

"Yeah."

"Why are you...?"

"I got wet, too," I explain cryptically.

"Why...?" he echoes curiously.

"You made me talk to you in the rain," I say ruefully.

He breaks into an immediate grin and drags me closer to his naked chest. I can still smell the rain seeped into his skin, and six am on no sleep, or not, my body's beginning to stir. "See, I knew you loved me."

"I love you," I agree, snuggling further against him. "So about your old man..."

He groans again, only fractionally beneath his breath. "What about him?" he asks, sounding resigned.

"I promise not to say anything to him about you, and I don't think I should stay for dinner again."

He hums as though his thoughts are drifting. "Yeah...Okay. I really am a fucking prick, Bell."

"Stop saying that."

He moans softly to himself and places his lips to my temple. "Okay."

"And..." I add hesitantly, only to second guess myself and let it go.

"And?" he prompts me.

"I want something else," I mumble with zero conviction.

"...What?" He's instantly suspicious.

I turn in his arms and meet his gaze seriously. "I want you to give me a hint."

"About...?" His forehead knots in confusion.

"You know what about..." I lower my voice in emphasis and he sighs heavily.

"I hate talking about that shit. You know that," he complains, raising a hand over the covers to rub at his brow.

"I know, but I feel terrible that I can't remember," I explain my reasoning.

"I don't want you to feel terrible," he mutters.

"Of course I'm going to feel terrible!" I state, grabbing his hand when he continues to claw at his skin. "It's significant to you and I've completely forgotten about it."

"Bell..."

"You were a complete arsehole, you owe me," I go with emotional blackmail while practically holding my breath.

He exhales in a wavering gush, groaning pointedly with it. "Fuck, you're a pain in the neck," he utters before he concedes. "Okay... We were in the lounge room together, you asked me whether I wanted you to get your old man, and I replied, 'what can he do?'."

I pause, my mouth falling open as the memory ebbs on the periphery of my recollection before it slowly fades away. "Shit, Edward!" I burst. "It's right there!"

"It's in there somewhere," he says, tugging teasingly on a strand of my hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I utter with frustration as it drifts further away.

"Think about it for a while. It'll come to you," he says, and I wish I shared his confidence.

"You must have a photographic memory. You forget nothing!" I complain.

"Believe me, I wish I could forget most of it," he replies in a murmur.

"I wish I could take it from you," I whisper in turn, tightening my arms around him.

"Stop being weepy," he jokes without missing a beat. "Now shut up and go to sleep. I got myself deliberately shitfaced tonight just to get the balls to text you."

I laugh gently and prod him, but I don't tell him that I would have replied no matter when he texted, or that I was miserable without him. He doesn't need to know everything.

**. . .**

Sleeping in on the weekends with Edward is definitely a trend with us. I wake at eleven-thirty to the glaring sun, bright and warm, behind my closed eyes, as well as to the familiar "oof" sounds of Edward at his punching bag.

"Sorry, Boog, gotta burn off the alcohol," he apologises after I shove his pillow over my head with an impatient, sleep-deprived moan.

"It's alright," I croak out from behind it, only for him to jump on the bed over me not a moment later.

"Oi," he pokes me in the ribs and attempts to pull his pillow from me.

"What...?" I grumble, relenting and allowing him to remove it.

"Let's go to Maccas," he suggests. "I need something fattening."

"Why were you boxing _again_?" I put to him dubiously, only for him to quirk a puzzled brow.

"What are you bitching about now?"

"Shouldn't we be having makeup sex or something?" I go with the obvious angle, arching my eyebrows in return.

"Not with the old man in the house." He grins shrewdly and clamps my nose. "Wanna do it in the treehouse again?"

"No—God it was uncomfortable! And besides..." I abandon it with a frown.

"Besides...?" he coaxes me to finish.

"That was the day everything went to crap. I don't want to be reminded of it."

He rolls his eyes. "Then we attach it to another memory, dork." He flicks my forehead this time, before pulling his long lean frame from over me. "Gonna have a shower. Be out in ten."

"Kay..." I mumble sitting up and rubbing my eyes groggily. "I'll go home and get dressed." And pulling myself lazily from his bed, I head toward his door.

"Hey," he says grabbing my hand and pulling me around to face him.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head, and before I can get another word out of my mouth, he cups his hands to the sides of my face and kisses me.

He kisses my lips repeatedly before pressing them to my jaw and neck and then every point on my face. "I missed you, boog," he murmurs against my ear when he releases me.

"Missed you too, shithead," I reply, shoving against him with too much affection.

"Don't be long." He clamps my nose again before disappearing behind his bathroom door.

"I'm heading home, Als," I say, pushing open her door as I pass it.

"Everything sorted out?" she asks, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed on her phone; to Jas, more than likely.

"Yeah," I say, smiling wryly to myself.

"I was right, wasn't I?" She cocks an all-knowing brow.

"You were," I admit.

Her grin turns broad. "Did you make him grovel?"

"No, he grovelled all on his own."

Her expression this time is grounded in disbelief. "He did?"

"Yep," I say simply.

"Jesus..." She shakes her head to herself before her gaze returns to mine. "What are you up to today?"

"Going to get Edward a hangover breakfast. Even though he doesn't appear to have one." I roll my eyes. He's definitely blessed in that department.

"He never does. Dad's out tonight. Come over—Jas'll be here, too."

"Yeah. Thanks, Al... For putting up with me."

Her smile this time is sunny and full of amusement. "Welcome."

My mother's enthusiasm reaches peak breaking point.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so happy for you!" she gushes, taking both my hands and out-stretching them as though she were inspecting me for hickies.

"Thanks," I mumble.

"How's he feeling?"

"Fine."

"Does he need a hangover cure? I have—"

"He doesn't have a hangover."

She pauses, her forehead knotting. "You're father said he was completely..."

"He was," I sigh, "but he seems to shrug these things off pretty quickly." He shrugs a lot of things off.

"Okay." She places both palms to my cheeks and mashes my lips together in her enthusiasm. "Did you apologise?"

"No!" I state more than a little indignant. "He—"

"Oh, sweetie," she waves her hand, brushing me off. "Do you need a B-12?" she offers because it's my mother's answer to everything.

"No, I'm fine." I sigh a second time, but I'm not sure I'll ever become immune to Renee's investment.

"You look tired. I imagine the make-up sex was pretty exhaust—"

"I'm leaving," I state in the midst of a full-body cringe as I make a break for my bedroom.

**. . .**

While Edward orders pancakes, and a large—everything, I buy a muffin and a coffee. We don't sit inside the restaurant to eat, though. Instead, we wander toward the small park to the rear and sit on a timber picnic table overlooking a duck pond.

The first several minutes are spent in silence as Edward gorges on his meal, until he turns to me, his mouth crammed full with food. "You're quiet. What's going on?" he probes.

I shrug my shoulder slowly. "I'm fine."

"Bell..."

I glance at him and raise my brows.

"You're not still pissed off, are you?"

"No," I reply, giving him a small smile.

"Then tell me," he insists, shoving his Sausage and Egg McMuffin in front of me in offer.

I shake my head and wave it away. "It was just something you said last night..." I mumble. It's _everything_ he said last night.

"Geez, what..." He groans to himself.

I shake my head to reassure him, but I can't deny it's troubled me ever since. "It's not bad."

"What is it?" He sighs in resignation because he knows me. As much as I know him.

I turn my head to fully meet his eyes. "You said you have to figure out how to have more than just sex with me," I relay in a mumble, severing his gaze to stare at my paper coffee cup.

For a moment there's silence between us before Edward expels a heavy breath. "Bell, I was drunk."

"No one lies when they're drunk," I remind him in a small voice.

He takes a second breath and groans with it. "Bella, look at me." I do. "I was just a fucking mess thinking I'd fucked everything between us, and I was doubting—everything. I thought I couldn't..." He shakes his head. "Anyway, it was bullshit."

"Are you holding back?—worried you're going to get hurt?" I ask him the obvious question, wanting to shy away from him at the same time, because judging by his expression, I've hit the nail on the head.

He breaks my gaze and stares at the half-eaten breakfast burger in his hand. "It's not... I mean, I'm not holding back..."

"What is it?" I ask seriously, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"It just...fucking scares the shit out of me," he admits, sounding suddenly frustrated at himself.

"You still think I'm going to hurt you." It's not a question, and I hate the fact that he does.

He shakes his head in immediate contradiction. "No... I'm just worried it won't work, and I know how much that'll...kill me."

"Edward—"

"Bell, I've done that shit. I'm not going there again." He's serious, but more than that, he's resolute.

I nod my head slowly in thought because I know where he's coming from. "Yeah... The last week without you felt pretty shitty."

He utters a strange, dry-laced laugh. "I didn't call you or anything because I couldn't...hear you tell me it was over..." he mumbles, dropping his gaze again as his forehead deeply knots.

"I-I thought you were angry at me," I admit ashamedly.

"Why would you think that?" His expression quirks this time in confusion.

"For sticking my '_big, fat nose'_ between you and your dad," I deliberately quote him.

He scoffs as though it were ridiculous. "You probably shouldn't have said anything, but I get that you were only looking out for me. I'm not a complete arsehole."

"You're not an arsehole, at all," I maintain, and he smirks this time.

"At least try and be realistic." He nudges me with his shoulder, and I break into a reluctant smile. "What's with all this heavy stuff, anyway?"

"I just want to...make sure we've properly cleared the air," I explain, shrugging past my growing doubt.

"We're fine," he insists. "Last night was the result of too many hours thinking I'd pushed you away. At least, that's what midget kept drumming into my head," he mutters, and scoffing, he takes another bite of his burger.

"You'd have to do a lot more than that to push me away," I reassure him, "but I still think you should talk to him."

"I told you, he won't listen," he says, his voice taking on an immediate edge.

"You should both get as drunk as you were last night," I suggest in an attempt to lighten the mood, as well as the topic of his father.

He scoffs again, but he's smiling to himself and that's a definite positive. "I'll need a few weeks of recovery time."

"I felt like death for the entire day, and you woke up after a couple of hours completely cured." I feign offense.

"Good genes," he says with a smirk, shoving the rest of his burger in his mouth.

"Apparently."

"Boog, you've got to stop hanging onto shit and not take everything I say literally," he adds when my thoughts begin to stray again.

"I don't," I murmur, not sounding exactly convincing.

"Originally, you told me to fuck myself, or something like that, and then you called me an arsehole. You remember?" he attempts to jog my memory, and grinning to myself, I nod my head.

"Yeah..."

"You can't stop doing that. I told you, you have to fight with me. If I act like an arsehole and you throw me that pissed off look or tell me to fuck off, it makes me come to my senses," he relays that typical overly pragmatic logic of his, shrugging his shoulder to cement it further before bringing the straw of his coke to his lips.

I can only smile and shake my head. "You're the one who always tells me you're _not_ an arsehole," I remind him.

"I can be sometimes." He flashes me a semi-shrewd grin. "I told you, boog, you're the only one who doesn't take my shit."

"Alright..." I concede, but half the time, I have no idea what he's talking about, and he's already mentally exhausting me.

"Besides," he adds simply. "I fucking hate when you cry over me."

"Huh?" I say blankly.

"If I say something shitty, don't cry—fucking deck me one!" he insists, and I laugh openly.

"Okay. I'll think about it," I say ruefully.

"Good," he says simply sounding satisfied with himself. "You done?" he tilts his head in reference to my coffee.

"Yeah. It was pretty crap."

"I told you not to order one." Grabbing my rubbish and bunching it roughly into a ball along with his, he lobs it towards the rubbish bin five feet away. "What are we doing?" he puts to me after it bounces off the rim and slides neatly inside.

I shrug simply. "I don't mind. What do you want to do?"

"I want to fuck you at least five times by tonight," he says completely straight-faced.

"_What_?" I almost choke on my own saliva.

"We have to make up for lost time," he says as though it went without saying.

It does, but still... "Can you not be _completely_ sex-crazed?"

"You know how many times I've had to whack off?" he raises his brows as I huff loudly.

"What part of you thinks I want to hear that?"

"Touchy." He clamps my nose. I shove him in response as he laughs whole-heartedly and completely at my expense. "You're still a screechy pain in the neck, boog."

"I told you, you're not allowed to call me that anymore."

"That was snotface."

"I..." I'm starting to feel dazed, and shaking my head to myself, I let it go. "Not in the treehouse!" I relent and state my sole condition.

"My bed's getting boring," he complains, pulling me to my feet with him. "How many times has it been?"

"Five," I answer with an internal groan while fighting off my emerging grin at the same time.

"Is that all?" he bursts as we make our way back to his car.

"It would have been more if you didn't go full arsehole last week," I retort, and releasing my hand, he hooks his elbow around my neck.

"Would you stop bitching already? Geez..."

I only sigh but don't say anything, because no matter how much he torments me, the fact remains that I missed him more than I thought I could tolerate the last ten days.

"You missed me, didn't you?" he asks because the shithead can probably read my thoughts.

"Yeah," I admit begrudgingly, shoving against him teasingly.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal," he says after sliding behind the steering wheel. He let me drive his car this morning; I almost died of shock.

"What?" I ask cynically as I tug the seatbelt over my shoulder.

"Sex twice and I'll give you another hint." He cocks a brow, but for a second or two, I'm slightly lost for words. I gauge him closely, but he's giving nothing away. "What?" he asks, puzzled.

I shake my head again, not quite sure what to make of it. "Okay."

Grinning and looking pleased with himself, he slots his key in the ignition and turns over the engine, while I can only marvel at him in complete bewilderment.

First his car and now this... His guilt is definitely turning out to be profitable.

* * *

**A/N: Thank for reading, and thanks also to Kim and Melinda.**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I hope you all remember what happened last chapter. I fail, I know.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 33**

"The old man was pissed," is Edward's second clue. While I can only stare at him, realising it's not nearly enough, he raises his eyebrows as if he expects me to instantly get it.

"That's it?" I huff in frustration.

"Bell, come on..." He sighs, and I'm not sure of the medium of it, but it only increases my irritation.

"_I did what I did to you," _I burst a little too loudly before I catch myself and lower my voice, "for _that_?"

"What did you do to me?" he asks, grinning to himself in full amusement before he lays back against his sheet and tucks both hands behind his head.

I shove him, but I'm not angry at him and he knows it. Still, I'm beyond frustrated, because while it's almost there on the edge of my memory, it's not quite accessible.

Releasing an arm and snaking it around my back, Edward pulls me closer to him, and sighing to myself in defeat I allow myself to go completely fluid against his chest.

"Why I can't remember!?" I bemoan, burying my face against him and breathing in the scent of his damp skin.

We're up to seven now, and the fifth time in his bed. Soon I'll start losing count, and I'm not so certain whether that'll be a positive. I like that this is still new to me; new to us.

"You do remember, you pain in the neck," he insists, tightening his arms around my waist. "Just stop trying to force it."

"It'll be a lot easier if you just tell me," I mutter behind a gushing sigh. I'm exhausted almost as much as I'm frustrated. Sex twice in the space of as many hours on four hours sleep... I'm almost tempted to call my mother for a B12. God knows she'd only be all too happy to hand-deliver one.

"You'll understand it a lot more if you remember," he counters against my brow, sounding almost distracted.

I expel my breath a second time, moaning softly behind it. "The more I can't remember it the crappier I feel," I admit.

"Stop that. I told you, I don't want you to feel bad."

"But you're certain I remember?" I glance up and meet his gaze dubiously.

"You remember," he says a little too simply.

I moan again helplessly, but with an impatient shake of my head, I let it go. He's right; trying to force it is getting me nowhere. "Hey?" I speak up after a couple of minutes of psyching myself into it.

"What?"

"I forgot to add something this morning..." I mumble to his bare chest.

"_What_...?" he openly complains.

"All this stuff with your dad... Just don't do it in front of me," I say quietly, and he scoffs loudly.

"I wouldn't anyway, you dork!"

"You did last week," I remind him, and when he scoffs again his emotions aren't nearly as low-key

"Didn't I tell you to stop hanging onto shit?"

"I'm not. I just...forgot to mention it," I repeat myself sheepishly.

"It goes without saying, you pain in the neck," he mutters.

"Arsehole," I reciprocate, pinching a fine strand of his chest hair between my fingers and tugging.

"_OW_!" He jerks, pulling my hand free, before propping himself over me on his hands. "There's ways of shutting you up, you know," he warns me, his eyes deliberately drifting to my naked chest before he clamps my nose—harder than usual.

I impulsively shove him off me, and rolling to his back again, he again draws me to him.

"Sorry," I murmur, draping my arm over his chest and releasing another heavy breath.

"Shut up," he replies, but his tone's flooding with affection whether he's aware of it, or not. "You talk too fucking much."

"Only to you..." I mumble, closing my eyes as a shuddering yawn erupts from me.

"Why didn't you sleep last night?" He wipes my hair off my forehead and angles his head to meet my gaze.

"I had to make sure you didn't choke on your own vomit," I say dryly.

He rolls his eyes but breaks into a small smile. "I'm flattered, boog."

"You should be," I tease him.

He chuckles in reply. It rocks gently from his chest and practically lulls me off to sleep. "You can crash if you like," he says, the tenor of his voice dropping. "I'm going to get something to eat."

I hum drowsily and nod. "What time is it?" I mumble behind closed eyes.

"Just after eight."

"Wake me up in a couple of hours..."

"What would be the point of that?" he asks softly, his warm fingers grazing against my ear as he tucks my hair behind it.

I only hum again, not sure I heard him properly as I feel myself begin to drift into obscurity.

**. . .**

"_EDWARD_!" The loud, reverberating anger of Carlisle's voice startles me immediately awake. I snap upright in shock, glancing around me in clouded confusion as Edward leaps from the bed beside me.

In the semi darkness I watch dazed as he hastily pulls on his jeans and reefs the door open; momentarily blinding me by the light behind it.

As my thoughts slowly become clear and more centred, my heart begins to pick up in panic, but before I can become too ingrained by the fear of what's about to happen, it quickly unfolds.

"What have I told you about leaving the kitchen like a pig sty?!" Carlisle roars, his irate-sounding voice appearing to echo off every wall in the house. "Clean it up—_NOW_!"

"Uh—that was Alice!" Edward replies, sounding almost as equally pissed off on top of indignant. "Why do you always assume it's me?" he demands.

"Because most of the time it is!"

"Well, this time is isn't, so go yell at her, and by the way, Bella's in my room and can hear everything!"

"...I thought that was over?" his father replies after a blatant pause, and there's something accusatory about his tone.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?—to see my heart ripped out."

"Oh, stop your whining, Edward!"

"You're the one who woke up the entire street!" Edward fires back, as I instinctively hold my breath.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I was tired—I forgot." Alice suddenly cuts in to the sound of plates and cutlery clanging noisily as she no doubt crams everything into the dishwasher.

"Just hurry up and clean it," Carlisle replies, and his voice is notably softer.

"Reckon I can go back to bed, now?" Edward says sarcastically.

"Watch your tone, Edward!"

"Thanks for the apology, _Dad_," he snaps dryly.

"And that's exactly why you don't get one!"

"As if I would have anyway," he mutters, the volume of his voice increasing as he makes his way back.

In the next second his bedroom door flies open before it's slammed again loudly behind him. In the silhouette of the moonlight I just make him out, standing against it, his arms folded across his bare chest.

I don't say anything; I only watch him closely with bated breath, waiting for any signs that he's going to react as adversely as he did the last time.

Expelling an impatient-sounding breath he kicks off his jeans and practically throws himself back onto his bed next to me.

I don't move; I only continue to gaze at him, his sheet pulled up over my still-naked chest.

"Are you alright?" I brave as he grabs me around the waist and attempts to pull me back down against him.

"I'm fine," he replies, an obvious edge of anger remaining behind his voice. "Sorry, he woke you up..."

"It's okay," I whisper, and yielding, I lay my head to his shoulder and drape an arm over him. "It's not your fault."

"He's a fucking prick..." he mutters darkly before expelling a heavy breath.

"Is he always like that?" I ask in a quiet voice.

"Sometimes. I gotta get out of here—I have to move out!" he says with sudden conviction.

"I know..." I murmur, not quite ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

"I can't afford it, though," he continues in a mumble, but he doesn't have to explain it further. While he's still an apprentice, his wage wouldn't be a lot, plus his truck would have cost an absolute fortune. The repayments alone would no doubt take up a large bulk of his pay.

"You can stay at my house," I propose just as he laughs impulsively, struggling to keep it beneath his breath.

"Your old man never meant that literally, boog."

"He never says anything he doesn't mean," I emphatically state, because nothing is truer.

"Yeah, but he said I could _stay over_, not move in," he points out.

"Still..." I begin when he squeezes his arms tighter around me, effectively cutting me off.

"Two more years, then I'm set."

"Would...he have hit you if I weren't here?" I venture cautiously after Edward takes another momentous breath and falls quiet.

He hums as though he were momentarily lost in thought. "No, and stop getting fixated on it. He only hits me when I really push him."

"Then," I turn and prop myself up against his chest, "why do you push him?—make me understand," I appeal to him.

"I told you—because he pisses me off," he says candidly, shrugging a shoulder as his gaze drifts towards his partially open blinds, "and it's just not in me to take his bullshit lying down."

"Edward..." I sigh.

"Shut up and stop talking—aren't you tired?" He makes a deliberate effort to change the subject, and knowing it's making him on edge, I let it go.

"Yeah," I say softly; I'm really not anymore, though. "Are you?"

"No. Now I'm wide-fucking-awake," he mutters.

"What time is it?"

"Hang on." He stretches his arm toward his bedside table, picks up his phone and unlocks it. "One-thirty."

"You didn't wake me up!" I protest.

"Why would I do that?" I can hear the smile in his voice even without seeing it.

"If I go to sleep early, I'll _wake up_ early," I explain simply.

"That's not a bad thing."

"I like sleeping in," I mumble, and sighing again, I lay my head back against his chest, closing my eyes to the echo of his heart. "Edward...?" I speak up after a moment.

"_What_...?" There's a teasing exasperation behind his voice.

I angle my head up to see his eyes even as mine struggle to adjust in the darkness. "If you give me another hint I'll _do stuff_ to you?" I'm deliberately coy.

He groans again, but he's not serious, and it's obvious he's contemplating it. "If I give you any more hints, I might as well just tell you."

"That would be good, too."

He groans a third time, lowly and to himself and again changes the subject; he's good at deflecting. "How come your old man is all of a sudden okay about you staying over with me?"

"He's on night shift for the next month."

"Ah..."

I sigh softly to myself. He's still uptight; I really should probably do _something_ to him.

"What are you thinking about now?" he pipes up ruefully, and he really does know me a lot more than I ever realised.

"Hurry up before I take the offer back," I say wryly even as my tone softens with affection.

By morning we're another point up, and the eighth time wasn't in his bed. Nine and ten take place back in bed though; in _my_ bed. Edward had a rostered day off the following Monday and Renee invited him to stay Sunday night. He gave me no more hints after, but then, I'm sure the shithead kept me deliberately distracted.

I make the decision not to _fixate on it_, as he accused me of. Mainly because my thoughts are monopolised by just being with him again; of finding that niche together.

By Christmas I've lost count, and Edward's confident he's got me _on par_ with where I _should_ be. The arsehole. We're also past the stage of using condoms, and I like _that_ more than I'd ever admit to him.

He's kept his promise, though. His run-ins with his father, while still pretty frequent, have been little more than minor arguments, and he hasn't taken a single one out on me. Though, I've kept my promise, as well. I don't insert myself into them when they happen, but I'm still not comfortable with the relationship he has with his father. While he'll never admit it, I know it upsets him, and by default it upsets me, as well.

That's when I make the decision to _break_ my promise and absolutely insert myself. Completely on the sly, of course. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, I tell myself repeatedly as I execute my plan.

The first step is my mother. I ask her to invite Edward, Alice and Carlisle for Christmas dinner.

"Of course, sweetie—_of course_." She's overjoyed by my request, and the following afternoon when Mr Cullen arrives home from work, she applies her lipstick, grabs the plate of Christmas cookies she made, and heads next door.

"Well...?" I practically pounce on her when she returns.

She flashes me a puzzled look as if the prospect of Carlisle turning her down was ludicrous. "Of course he's coming. He's bringing lobster." She winks and sashays her way into the kitchen as I head toward her and my father's bedroom where he's busy getting ready for work.

"Hey, Dad," I greet him, reaching up on my toes to fasten the top button of his shirt. "I need to ask you something," I add cryptically.

"Ask away." He folds his arms across his chest and gauges me suspiciously.

"Mum invited Mr Cullen, and Edward and Alice over for Christmas—"

"I know," he interrupts, continuing to eye me sceptically.

"I was wondering... Will you get Edward and Carlisle drunk?" I blurt hastily before I can talk myself out of it.

"Bella..." He sighs.

"And then get them talking?"

Closing his eyes he rubs them slowly, his ensuing groan becoming audible. "Fine," he concedes before clearing his throat roughly. "Are you going to that party taking place tonight?" His scepticism this time is for a completely different reason.

"You know about that?" I ask surprised; to which he only arches a dubious, all-knowing brow.

Angela Weber's brother is having a Christmas party tonight. He was in the same year as Edward, so naturally he's invited, while Angela was in the same year as me and Alice. And Jessica and Mike. I made Edward promise me—repeatedly—that there'll be no sequel to what happened at the formal, but I honestly think he's already over it. He doesn't hang on to things, at all.

I can't say the same thing for me, though. Something he's always bringing to my attention.

Still, the two of us are together and Edward exacted his revenge on Mike and his brother for what happened when he broke up with Lauren. He's more than done, and Mike would be an idiot to keep it going. He can't jump him tonight, either. Emmett's going, as well as Japer, and most of the guys Edward used to hang out with at school. And Edward was, as he likes to constantly remind me, popular.

Plus, I want to get him drunk. He tells me he loves me when he is. Right now it's all I've got. At least until I can remember.

If I ever will.

Alice is no help. She remembers less than I do from back then, but I'm pretty sure that's deliberate. She had such a hard time. As much as Edward did.

"Yeah," I sheepishly answer my father's question.

"Edward's going, no doubt."

"Yep."

"You taking a cab?" He's already removing his wallet from his back pocket, and just as I'm nodding in answer he thrusts a fifty dollar bill into my hand. "Be sensible."

"I will."

**. . .**

"Must be nice being _Daddy's girl_," Edward teases me after we exited the taxi together. I paid for the fare before he could reach for his wallet. I'm not sure he's really happy about it, but then, Edward's ego is the size of China.

I nudge him with my shoulder, and grabbing my hand he pulls me toward the two story house already overrunning with people. Music is blasting from every opening, and almost subconsciously, I inch even closer to him.

"It's not too late to back out," he petitions. "We can find somewhere quiet and make our own fun," he alludes with a wink

I shake my head adamantly even as my smile pulls broad. "It's fine. Just don't abandon me."

"Midget's here. Somewhere..."

"She barely remembers my name when she's around Jas," I point out wryly. Add alcohol and she becomes oblivious to any other person within a five mile radius.

He scoffs, and releasing my hand he wraps his arm around my shoulders. "God, you're a pain in the neck."

"I'm okay," I insist. I'm not really. I'm not really into crowds, let alone parties, but Edward is, and I don't want him to have to change the way he lives for me.

The instant we walk through the front door several voices chorus out Edward's name. I glance up and immediately spot Mike and his brother with Jessica and Lauren in the corner of the living room.

Edward doesn't appear to, though, and once more grabbing my hand, he tugs me behind him and proceeds to introduce me.

"I don't think I've ever heard your voice before," one of the guys comments after I, too shyly, reciprocated their greetings.

"Get her going and she doesn't shut up," Edward adds with a discernible edge of affection to his voice, before he clamps my nose. In front of them. I thought it was something he only did when we were alone; apparently I was wrong.

"Want a drink, Bella?" Riley, Edward's BFF from his grade, offers after shoving a beer in Edward's hand.

"Um, sure," I reply, lowering my head to stare at the floor just as Edward nudges my foot with his white converse. Chucks and work boots; they're the only shoes he owns.

"Fuck it's weird seeing this side of you, boog," he leans down and whispers in my ear.

"Shut up," I murmur, nudging him in the side, just as a plastic cup of—god only knows what, is placed in my hand.

"Tequila," Riley answers my silent question when I again look up.

"Ah, yeah, maybe not..." Edward comes to my rescue by taking the drink from me and downing its contents. "She's not too pro on tequila," he further explains when Riley quirks a curious brow at him.

"I'm not," I agree in a mumble, secretly relieved as my eyes once again find my feet. After the first disaster of drinking it I've never been able to come around to the taste of it. Without my stomach churning, at least.

"I can get you a Coke," Riley suggests instead.

"Okay. Thanks," I reply.

"Would you relax?" Edward berates me when Riley disappears from view.

"I'm fine!" I insist. "Stop stressing about me."

"Well, Jesus, you're uptight as fuck."

"Would you stop hassling me!?" I turn to face him with a huff.

"You're gonna make me worry about you all bloody night!" he adds in some kind of accusation.

I open my mouth to continue arguing when I pause and break into a knowing smile. "Don't worry about me," I tell him, reaching out to pinch his cheek teasingly.

He grabs my hand and tugs me closer to him; his smile way too charming for his own good. "We don't have to stay long."

"Would you shut up!?"

He only winks, his grin inching broad just as a cup of Sprite is thrust into my hand.

"Wanna play pool?" Riley asks Edward, who immediately hesitates, a frown knotting his brow as his gaze again meets mine.

I nod slightly and half shrug. I have no objections to it, so long as he doesn't leave me stranded. If I was Alice—or anyone else—it wouldn't be a problem, but I never mastered the art of making conversation with people I barely know.

"Yeah, give me five," Edward answers, and turning, he looks over his shoulder, clearly searching for Alice. He finds her, and promising Riley he'll return he leads me toward where she and Jas are seated on a modular sofa with several other people from our school year.

"Look after boog for me, will you?" he asks Alice seconds before flicking her forehead.

"Idiot—"

"I don't need anyone looking after me!" I immediately object, cutting Alice off. "I'm not a two year-old."

He only smirks and rolls his eyes as Alice grabs my hand and pulls me beside her.

"What's happening?" Jas pipes up, clearly interested.

"Pool," Edward replies simply.

"Count me in." Jas jumps to his feet.

"Since when was he so..._maternal_?" I state in wonder, shaking my head, my eyes on Edward's retreating back as he leaves the room.

"Edward? Maternal?" Alice replies, quirking a dubious brow.

"All worried about me like I'm an infant," I elaborate.

"He's always worried about you—what are you drinking?" She leans closer and takes a sniff of what's inside the plastic cup I'm still clutching.

"Lemonade," I answer.

"Bella, it's Christmas!" She states the obvious. "Have something stronger."

"If I drink too much he'll say it and I won't remember," I explain simply.

"Say what...?" she asks sceptically.

"I love you," I say before taking a sip of my drink.

Alice rolls her eyes and scoffs. "God, he's so high maintenance."

"No, he's not," I counter, smiling to myself good-natured.

"Has he been a shit?" she enquires, both eyebrows raising when I meet her gaze.

"He's been fine. We had one fight—you're too hard on him, Als," I point out.

"Did he tell you?" she pipes up after flashing me an expression overrunning with doubt.

"Tell me...?"

"The Facebook post he wrote about you when you were _pretending_." She quotes with her fingers.

"No..." I reply, frowning.

"He thought if he could get you to hate him, it'd stop the two of you from becoming _the two of you_," she says cryptically, rolling her eyes again.

"_What_?" I utter in complete bewilderment. "Why...?"

"Then he realised he didn't _want_ you to hate him, so he deleted it. You weren't supposed to see it."

"God, you're right. He _is_ high maintenance," I concede, dropping my forehead to my palm.

"I think it's pretty cute." She shrugs and takes another gulp of her wine.

"_Cute_?" I echo unconvinced.

"You got him to admit something so close to him. I've never seen him so serious in my entire life."

"What—when did he tell you that?" I'm almost without words, and I'm beginning to suspect I'll never understand him.

"Day...hmm..._five _of the silent treatment you gave him. He burst into my room all agitated and demanded I get you to call him. I told him he deserved everything you were dishing out to him, and then he sat down on my bed, and started confessing all this shit to me. I thought he was high, but nope, he was stone-cold sober."

"Wh-what...?" I let it go, deciding I _am_ without words.

"I told him he needed to tell you all that in person, and he said he'd have to get drunk first."

"Yeah well, he _was_ drunk, and I think he alluded to something to that effect—how he tried to back out. He hides it well," I mutter ruefully. "You could have told me this, you know."

"I swore I wouldn't." She snorts and breaks into a small grin. "I've decided I like you going out with my idiot brother."

"It's nice to know we entertain you," I say dryly.

"Sure you don't want a drink?" she asks, ignoring anything else with a smirk.

"Not yet." I'm adamant.

Not until the first _I love you_, at least.

* * *

**MWAH xoxo**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: These two finally started talking to me again. Oy vey. Not long to go, either. Do you even remember what happened last? I bloody well didn't. Had to read that last ten chapters to get back into the groove of it. Jesus, mate, Edward is a complicated bastard. Anyway, remember when I said this fic would be angst free? Erm... Well it _is_ me. Humour and angst tend to creep in regardless of what I'm writing. **

**This chapter's not edited. It's all me in my unmitigated chaos. It's probably fail on toast, but anywho... Sorry, Kim. I'm an inpatient fucker, I know. Thanks to StarryEyedWriter too MWAH.**

* * *

**Hoodwinked**

**Chapter 34**

"You know what I think?" Alice suggests after downing her third cup of wine. She's definitely reached the realm of tipsy and has abandoned me twice to the sofa to go in search of Jas.

It's been more than an hour and he and Edward still haven't returned from playing pool. I'm beginning to worry something might be cooking. More accurately, something to do with the four people still huddled in the corner of the room. One of whom keeps turning to glare intermittently at me.

I sigh to myself, distracted. "She thinks I was screwing around with Edward when they were still together."

"Huh?" Alice's gaze follows mine to the four of them holding up in the armchairs several feet across from us, and aware of our eyes on her, Lauren turns her head and openly scowls. It's directed at me, but Alice still chuckles. "Ahh," is her long-winded reply even as she struggles to suppress her laughter. "Yeah, he didn't think that one through very well, did he?"

"Does he think _anything_ through?" I put to her, only semi-teasing. "What do you think?"

"Hm?" she replies, her brows shooting up in confusion.

"You said, 'you know what I think?'," I remind her.

"Oh, yeah. I think you should record him and then show him when he's sober so he knows the world won't end if he admits it."

"Admits...?"

"_I love you_," she pointedly explains.

"Yeah, I don't think that'll go down too well," I say ruefully.

Alice shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. "Just a suggestion—how long does a game of pool take?—_honestly_," she snaps, as her gaze pulls around the room in search of her boyfriend.

"They're not planning anything, are they?" I voice my suspicions as my eyes again draw subconsciously back to Lauren.

"Nah," Alice replies, clearly not concerned by the suggestion. "They probably just lost track of time."

Right on cue, Edward and Jas appear in the doorway, and by the flushed hue to Edward's cheeks he's already moved beyond tipsy. Alice waves them over. They pass Jason, Mike, Jessica, and a still-pouting Lauren, but Edward doesn't even acknowledge them. That's when I realise—releasing my breath in relief—that he really has let go of all the bullshit that happened at the formal. One thing you definitely can't say about Edward is he's a grudge holder.

"Hey," he says after flopping down on the sofa beside me and draping a heavy arm around my shoulders. He points to my chest then, but instead of looking down at it, I grab his hand knowing he's half a second from groping me in front of a dozen people. A dozen people whose eyes immediately zero in on us as though we were an anomaly.

"Hey," I echo just as he buries his face against my neck and almost pushes me back against Alice. "What are you doing...?" I ask good-naturedly as I carefully ease him back.

"Hmm..." His hot, alcohol-scented breath washes over my flesh, making it prickle. "I like this," he notes against my earlobe, slipping his index finger beneath the thin strap of my dress.

"I thought you might," I reply with a small smile. Alice helped me pick it out; it's skimpier than I'd normally wear but Edward's confidence is infectious. Plus, I knew he'd appreciate it.

"Except every guy here is staring at you. That, I _don't_ like," he amends, planting his lips to the side of my face before he rests them momentarily against my bare shoulder.

"They're staring at me because they're not used to seeing me at parties. _Or_ with you," I correct him, fighting to hold off the shiver as those warm, supple lips of his continue to probe against my throat.

He scoffs out his reply against my skin. "Bell..."

"Hm?"

"What's this shit about Christmas?" he asks, completely surprising me before sitting himself upright and gauging me suspiciously.

"You're coming for dinner," I say casually after a pause I hope wasn't too obvious.

"Was this your doing?" he asks, his eyes narrowing as he takes a gulp from the bottle of beer in his hand.

"Of course," I admit simply. I knew he was going to grill me over it, so I made the decision not to lie to him. My mother will more than likely spill after two drinks, and it'll only make things worse. Still, I decide to omit certain details.

"Why...?" He cocks a cynical brow because the guy knows me.

"It's our first Christmas together," I state the obvious.

"Why the old man?" He's clearly not satisfied by my answer.

"I couldn't really invite you and Alice and not your dad."

"Yeah, you could," he insists.

"Edward..." I nudge him teasingly.

"Don't think that I don't know you're up to something," he leans fractionally closer and quirks a brow.

I scoff, feigning innocence. "I didn't realise you were so paranoid."

He_ tsks_, and he's not even remotely convinced. "You think I don't know what you and midget get up to when you're together?"

"It got us together, didn't it?" I counter, mirroring his expression.

"I would have fixed that eventually."

"I might not have been as willing."

"I'm a master at wearing you down." He takes another gulp of his beer and winks from behind it.

I roll my eyes, and half shake my head to myself, when he offloads the empty bottle on the coffee table before us and leans in and kisses the curve of my neck and shoulder. His hand is beginning to become a little too adventurous, and it's fast beginning to make me uncomfortable.

"Edward..." I sigh, grabbing it just as his fingers graze against my boob.

"Hmm...?"

"Stop. People are staring," I whisper. Not to mention, Alice is right beside us.

He raises his head to meet my eyes. "Is that deadshit still giving you a hard time?"

"Who?" I ask blankly.

"Pencil dick," he elaborates.

I smirk. "No, but your ex-girlfriend keeps side-eyeing me."

He quickly glances over his shoulder, his eyebrows narrowing, before back to me. "She's not stupid enough to pull anything," he assures me. "She knows I'd beat her boyfriend to a pulp if she tried."

"I don't think she's over you."

He snorts as though it were ridiculous, and then replies in the complete opposite. "I'm pretty hard to get over." He winks a second time.

"You are so up yourself," I say wryly, nudging him again. "How long do you want to stay?" Truthfully, I'm over it already. Loud music, mass consumption of alcohol, and people practically fornicating publically—definitely not my thing. Nor is having Edward grope me with his ex-girlfriend ten feet away.

"We can leave whenever you want," he says shrugging a shoulder.

"Hmm... Is this what you do every weekend?" I ask dubiously.

"Yeah." His reply is casual. "It's relaxing."

"You don't want me to accompany you to every party, do you?"

He draws his breath and releases it very pointedly. "_No_."

"They're just..." I make an effort to explain but he gets me, so I abandon it.

"What?—don't you want to be one of those couples that spend every waking second with each other?" he teases me, hooking his elbow around my neck again and pulling me flush to him.

"I'd probably keel over from mental exhaustion," I reply, easing myself back from him so I can breathe.

"You love me," he mumbles with a smirk, bringing a can of beer to his lips. Where he got this one from is anyone's guess. "What?—you want a drink?"

I only shake my head.

"You want to go somewhere more private?" he ventures, and I pause for a moment, unsure whether he's messing with me or not.

I prod my elbow into his side and sigh. "I'm not having sex with you in some stranger's bed."

"I didn't mean _here_, you pain in the neck," he says dryly, rolling his eyes this time as he takes another gulp of his beer.

"Where?" I ask.

"Your old man at work?" His brows raise high with interest as I break into a grin.

"You know he is."

His smile quickly mirrors mine. "Just checking. Alright, give me a few..."

**. . .**

"Heeeey, Mrs Swan," Edward greets my mother—a little too enthusiastically—after she opens the door to us. He's drunk—and horny. The latter has been glaringly obvious all night. I resorted to standing in front of him to hide it; like I'm doing now. It doesn't help that he's leaning into me and constantly poking me in the back.

"Hey, hon," my mother replies with a smile and half, semi-concealed wink. "What brings you two back so soon?"

"Was getting boring, and snotface was all over me. It was embarrassing," he quips like the complete and utter arsehole he is.

I immediately elbow him in the ribs, and even as he jolts he continues to laugh; my mother joins him. "Projecting, you shithead!"

"You two are _so cute_," she says in a gushing tone like we're kittens before she sashays happily toward the family room. "I'm going to bed soon, and I have my Soothing Sounds app on—_pretty loudly_," she feels the need to blatantly add.

"We're just going to watch a movie!" I insist, convincing no one, least of all her while wanting to pre-emptively muffle whatever it is Edward's about to blurt out. I grab a handful of his shirt instead.

"Of course, sweetie—_of course_," she openly patronises me, while beside me, Edward snickers. "Do you need a coffee, hon?" She turns her attention back to him, along with a barely hidden reference to the sex we're about to have in my room.

"Nah, should be fine," he answers, because he's more than likely aware of the innuendo behind it as well. Arsehole.

"Okay, well, have fun, but don't wake Jake up." She places her index finger to her lips and winks again. She does it a lot; it's something they have in common.

I only sigh; there's not much else left at my disposal by way of reactions, after all.

"Your mother _is _pretty cool," Edward notes after she disappears behind the doors separating the bedrooms from the living areas.

"Shut up—and don't call me snotface!" I snap, shoving him in the direction of my room; he almost loses his footing and trips over. "We're not five anymore!"

"Touchy," she says lightly after righting himself. "What are you bitching about, this time? I _didn't_ call you snotface."

"_Snotface was all over me_," I quote back to him, arching a brow when he glances at me over his shoulder.

"Ah...erm..._habit_?" he offers up with a smirk.

"I hate you." I pout—for pretences only—and shut my door behind the two of us.

"See, this is the boog I like," he says, a cheeky, half-drunken grin in tow after he flops down on my bed.

"Just don't...encourage her," I reply, releasing my breath heavily and sitting beside him. It's less exhausting when I'm not constantly fighting him.

"Something tells me she doesn't need much encouragement," he adds, his grin momentarily broadening. "You right?"

"Fine," I say simply with a shrug, and turning to him I point my finger against his chest. "Don't be too rough."

He quirks a confused brow. "When am I rough?"

"When you're drunk."

"Ah, shit—well, why the hell didn't you say something?"

"I...I dunno. I mean, you're not _that_ rough—"

"Oy?"

"What?"

"You stalling?" he puts to me suspiciously.

"Why would I stall?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.

"How the hell would I know? Pain in the neck." His tone softens with affection and he flicks my forehead.

"I'm _not_ stalling," I promise him jokingly before nudging him back against my bed. "Stop giving me shit."

"You don't take my shit..." he murmurs, draping his forearm over his eyes. He releases a humming breath. "We don't have to have sex."

"What?" I ask sceptically.

"Unless you want to..." He peeks beneath his arm, his grin resurfacing.

"Reverse psychology?" I cock my brow, and he chuckles.

"Nah. Bell...?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you, right?"

"I know," I say softly, smiling subtly to myself.

"And...I _can_ have more than just sex with you." For whatever reason I get the impression he's attempting to convince himself more than me.

I'm not drunk, but if I was, I'd be immediately sobered up. "Can you?" I ask.

"Yeah..." He covers his face again and groans lazily. "I just told myself I'd stop stressing over it."

"Over what?" I ask, reaching over to pull his arm free so I can see his eyes.

"Over worrying about losing people. It's fucking...pointless anyway." He smiles, but this time it's a little too forced, and one-hundred percent vulnerable.

"Edward..."

"No getting weepy." He clamps my nose. "'Kay?"

"Okay."

I am, though.

**. . .**

He falls asleep on me. Literally, and halfway through. I knew something was amiss; he was clumsy, uncoordinated, his arms were quaking and his face kept slumping and dragging over mine.

"Give me a sec," he murmured, completely stopping and resting his weight fully over me, only to start snoring within three of them.

I did get another_ I love you _out of him, so calling it even, I roll his hot, heavy—and _limp_—body off me and throw my sheet over him.

I fall asleep beside him almost as instantly, only to be awoken again by something that makes the blood turn to ice in my veins. It's the sounds of my father's keys, and his heavy footsteps coming across the driveway toward the entrance of the house.

I have exactly twenty-five seconds to get Edward out of my bed and hidden from my father's suspicious gaze or we're both dead.

Shoving him roughly awake, I quickly clamp my hand over his mouth to muffle his protest.

"What?" he mumbles croakily from behind my palm.

"My dad's coming—_quickly_!" I blurt, just barely managing to keep my tone below a whisper in my growing panic.

His eyes immediately widen in alarm, and just as the sound of the key turning in the front door lock breaks the silence of the house, he leaps from my bed—completely naked in the semi-obscured moonlight—and throws himself into my built-in wardrobe.

With bated breath, and my heart hammering wildly behind my ribs, I fall back down against my mattress, cover my bare skin fully with my sheet, and clamp my eyes shut. Not a second later, my bedroom door creaks quietly open and my father's still presence remains on the other side of it for what feels like eternity.

I'm positive he knows exactly what's going on, as well as the whereabouts of my very naked boyfriend, but just as quietly, he retreats, closing my door as he does.

Only when I hear his footsteps venture further into the house do I allow myself to breathe, but I can't fully relax until he leaves for work again. Something he does roughly half an hour later after moving about noisily in the kitchen; more than likely grabbing himself a serving of whatever my mother left out for him.

"Fuck!" Edward utters, after appearing from behind my wardrobe doors the instant the sound of my father's car fades down the street. "That's ten years of my life I just lost."

"Christ, I know," I murmur in full agreement, still unable to breathe freely.

Bending down Edward retrieves his underwear from the floor and clumsily pulls his legs into them. "What time is—wait!" His expression turns dazed and his eyes drift vacantly toward the window as though he's suddenly confused. "Did we...?"

"No," I answer, smirking slightly to myself. "You fell asleep on me."

"Well, that explains..." he leaves it unfinished, his head dropping in emphasis to the discernible bulge behind his Calvin Kleins, "_this_."

I eye him sceptically, but I'm unmoved. "After the heart attack I just had? _No_!"

"Bell—"

"No."

"You can't leave me like this," he protests.

"You shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"I was drunk," he replies as though it's justification enough.

"_And_?" I add unconvinced.

"Bell..." He tilts his head and pulls out the charm, and the shithead knows exactly what he's doing.

"You have a hand." I hold strong—just barely.

"I have..." planting his palms to my mattress, he climbs deliberately over me until his face is inches from mine, "a _girlfriend_."

"It's"—needing an excuse to sever his gaze, I turn and grab my phone from my side table, switching it on—"almost 3am. I'm tired," I put up somewhat of a defensive.

Closing the distance, he plants his heated lips to my bared shoulder and then again along the curve of my neck. "I'll give you another hint," he barters against my ear.

"That's extortion," I reply, my voice softening, making it evident that I'm already wavering. And he knows it.

"It's quid pro quo," he responds, slowly dragging his lips across my face to my mouth.

"Stop... Oh, fuck it," I completely cave, and that's how long I hold out for.

"You've come a long way, boog," Edward gently teases me after, lying beside me, a sweating, breathless puddle of water. "You don't kiss me like a twelve-year-old anymore." There's laughter behind his voice and in reply I elbow him.

"Shut up." Clearing the still lingering arousal—and affection—from my voice loudly, I roll to my side and face him.

"Daddy had you chained to the sink three times over."

I scowl at him, and in response, he pulls out that sunny grin of his and clamps my nose. "Leave me alone, you arsehole."

He chuckles softly beneath his breath, and turning to gaze up at the ceiling, he groans languidly. "Fuck, it's hot."

"Want a drink?" I offer, snuggling closer to him until he opens an arm for me.

"Nah." Closing his eyes he releases a humming breath. "Bell—"

"You owe me something..." I refresh his memory.

He groans again, pointedly this time. "Let me think..." he mumbles, sounding as though he's drifting back to sleep.

"No trying to get out of it." I tug his bottom lip playfully.

He swats my hand away. "Stop that. I'm thinking."

"You could just tell me," I hint; I know it's futile, but it's still worth a try.

"Shut up," he mutters, opening his eyes as a wry smile curves on his lips regardless. "Okay..." he begins, pausing to expel a deep breath this time, "I told you never to say it..." His voice fades and becomes distracted before he softly clears his throat.

"Repeat how you said it," I urge him in a whisper, and feeling like I'm on tenterhooks with him.

"Bell..." he complains, raising his hand to drag tense fingers over his forehead, but with a wavering sigh, he relents. "I said, '_never say it'_."

I consider it for a moment as once again the memory, fleeting and buried by time, flashes through my mind and is immediately gone. I draw my breath, desperately attempting to hold onto it, even as it persists, teasing me with recognition that isn't quite there. "Dammit!" I mutter a little too loudly.

Rolling to his side he pulls me flush against his chest. "What time does he usually get home?" he asks, changing the subject.

"6:30-ish," I answer, biting on my bottom lip as my thoughts continue to chase shadows.

He tugs me closer and tightens his arms around me. "Better set your alarm."

"Yeah..." I mumble, stretching out to grab my phone even as I remain distracted.

Edward's aware of what's plaguing me, but he doesn't bring it to my attention. Deliberately is my guess. All too quickly, he falls back asleep, hugging me securely to him, his face pressed to my chest, but as is becoming habit, I don't follow him. I can't; I deliberately stay awake attempting to force eroding memories to the surface that seemingly don't want to be unearthed.

**. . .**

"So...it's Christmas Eve," is Edward's rhetorical reminder, complete with cheesy grin, as we're seeing each other off at his front door. He's still half asleep and his bed-hair is beyond chaotic; it's stupidly adorable. "Buy me anything?"

"You'll have to wait and see," I allude, tugging on his unevenly-buttoned shirt.

He flashes me a dubious brow as his smile resurfaces. "You're not really going to drag me out tonight to look at Christmas lights, are you?" he adds, referring to the plans Alice made with us the week before. We're double dating with her and Jas. Christmas lights first, followed by carols in the park. Needless to say, Edward's not exactly sold on the idea.

"Yes!" I immediately shut his objections down.

"It's lame."

"It's Christmas."

"Still gay..." he mutters.

"You're going. Or no sex for a month," I counter, but I'm not even minimally serious.

He snorts ironically and hooks his elbow around my neck. "You couldn't go that long."

"_You_ couldn't." I shove him off me.

"Kiss me and bugger off already—_geez_."

Rising on my toes I plant my lips clumsily against his. He attempts to deepen it, but with the knowledge that my father could drive around the corner at any moment, I pull away. "We're meeting at eight."

"Righto." He sighs, and turning to glance away he drags his hand to the back of his head.

"It'll be fun," I insist, nudging him.

"_Fun_..." he echoes begrudgingly, before his expression becomes sedate and his gaze returns to mine. "You remember anything?" His eyebrows pull high.

I huff, and it's answer enough.

"I told you," he adds, clamping my nose, "_don't force it_."

"I know," I murmur, shrugging a defeated shoulder, because the reality that I'll never remember is becoming more of a probability with each passing day.

"Okay..." He expels a deliberately heavy breath, "I'll see you later." He flicks my forehead before bending down and replacing his fingers with his lips.

I break into an immediate smile and nudge him again, filling with affection for the shithead. While ninety-percent of him is pure smart arse, he's still capable of being sweet.

I return home, beating Charlie by barely two minutes, and climb back beneath the covers of my bed. I'm exhausted, and once again conceding defeat on this memory that is so significant to Edward that he can't repeat it, I close my eyes and steadily drift into oblivion.

I sleep and I dream. I dream of Alice cowering in the corner of her room, her knees to her chest and both palms clamped over her ears. And of Edward. Of Edward with tears running in rivers down his cheeks as he stands stock-still, looking broken and lost, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Never say it!" he cries in a voice wracked by pain and anger and unbroken by puberty. "Never say it, Bella!"

I bolt upright before I'm fully awake, my hand clutching my heaving chest as I glance hastily around my room in an effort to gain my bearings. The echo of that voice—that voice that was once so familiar—still lingers on the periphery of my dream, sparking the recognition I've desperately been searching for.

My memories are right there within reach but they're disjointed and almost nonsensical.

I shake my head, along with the confusion from my thoughts, but it's futile. "He never called me Bella," I mumble to myself, attempting to make sense of..._something_. "It was always...snotface..."

As though that one word was the trigger it needed, my mind begins to race so fast I struggle to keep up with it. Again, I shake my head, as fractured images and voices from the past slowly begin to piece together.

Alice cowering in her room, and the sound of glass breaking...

Realisation hits me like a wrecking ball, and taking me by so much surprise, I suck in my breath so sharply I start to gasp.

"I remember!" I burst into my empty room even as my voice fails.

A moment later my door opens and my mother pokes her head into my room. "Want coffee, sweetie?"

"Mum!" Leaping from my bed, I make my way to my wardrobe and throw on the first articles of clothing my hands find. I need to tell him. This instant.

"Sweetie...?" My mother's voice is laced with concern as she gently lays a hand to my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I remember!" I turn to her. I feel manic, my heart is absolutely rampaging, and I can only imagine my expression is reflecting it.

"Remember what?"

"Why he can't say it!" Completely flustered and unable to centre my thoughts, I take a step to move past her when she grabs my hand.

"Bella, you're hands are shaking—_slow down_. Why he can't say what?"

"I love you!"

* * *

**A/N: God cliffhanger, right? I'm almost done with chapter 35, so I won't make you wait too long. I hoped you liked it and thank you for reading.**


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